


Noir

by BillieTheWitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Dark Magic, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-23 19:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30060333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BillieTheWitch/pseuds/BillieTheWitch
Summary: In chaos theory, the butterfly effect is the sensitive dependence on initial conditions, in which a small change in one state can result in large differences in a later state. Who could've guessed, that on one drunken night in 1979, prestigious Hogwarts alumnis - Sirius Black and Athena Lévesque - would come together to create such a disruptor of events? Fred Weasley certainly could never. But if he could've, he would have thanked those two drunk idiots, a hundred times over.
Relationships: Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	1. Sneak Peek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Freddie Met Lizzie

The 'Wicked Wench' bar over at 'Hestia's Lair' was at full capacity once more. Even with the Dark Lord himself walking freely once again, the locals were dedicated to cling on to any piece of normalcy they could. It didn't matter if said normalcy meant losing their senses in a haze filled with smoke, alcohol, music and sex. The neighbourhood never pretended to be anything other than a sanctuary for thieves and con artists; so why should its bar be any different? The only difference between the 'Wicked Wench' and other establishments, was that it was a place of **magic**.

The two red-headed twins had made it a habit to frequent 'The Wench' after their untimely graduation from 'Hogwarts', and since then they had become regulars. There, they had met various potential business partners, that managed to provide them with various items to enhance their store products. They mixed business and pleasure; and they couldn't have been happier.

That night though, only one twin sat at the bar, waving to Eddie, the elderly owner with a heart of gold but a stature that could make any man's blood run cold.

"Hey, where's your other half?" greeted the bar owner, a smile on his face as he gestured for the ginger to sit at the empty stool by the bar. The Weasley could only smirk in response as he motioned to a dark corner, near the small makeshift stage of the bar, where a mop of fiery hair had his mouth pressed on the neck of a petite blonde whose nails were pressing hard into his skull.

"Uh, I see." chuckled Eddie as he pulled out a glass of firewhisky and offered it to the eldest twin. "Here."

As Fred scanned the bar he found solace in the familiarity of it. He always found it amazing that within the four walls of that bar, everyone was equal. Wizards played poker with goblins, trolls downed firewhisky by the bottle, while discussing Quidditch scores with a group of half giants. _That_ was always the real magic of that place in Fred's eyes...

He kept looking around the place lazily, already on his second glass of the night, until his gaze landed on the most piercing eyes he had ever seen. A mesmerising mixture of blue and grey stared back at him, as if they were looking straight to his soul.

Across from him, on the booths at the darkest corner of the bar, laid a girl, one very different than the ones he had encountered in his 18 years of life. Her posture exuded confidence. Her smirk almost taunting him, daring him to get closer. Dark jeans covered her long legs that rested lazily on the table in front of her, her heeled boots on full display. A white tank top flowed effortlessly over her top as her leather jacket clung on to her arms. Dark hair cascaded down her shoulders, her pale complexion creating the most wonderful combination of features he had ever seen. And he hadn't even given her a closer look.

"Who is _she_?" Fred inquired, finally tearing his gaze from the girl's. Once Eddie realised who he was referring to, a throaty laugh escaped.

"She's way more than you can chew boy." He smirked, still chuckling to himself. But Fred Weasley was never one to run away from a challenge.

"Humour me." He insisted, his infamous smirk on his lips.

The man let another chuckle as he motioned for the ginger to get closer to him. As the music filled the room, there was no way anyone would be able to hear them given their proximity.

"That girl over there. She's the reason Death Eaters don't show up in this part of town. She rules the neighbourhood with an iron fist under that old Thibault hag..."

"Wait." Fred quickly cut him off as his eyes widened in shock. " _The_ Maggie Thibault? Isn't she...?"

"Batshit crazy? Sure. She also happens to be the smartest student Hogwarts had ever seen. Ravenclaw kept bragging about her for years before she went all insane." Eddie quickly explained.

"What's her name?" Fred insisted once more, stealing another glance over at the girl across from him. Every time he looked over however, she turned her gaze back to him, as if she could hear him from across the room.

"You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you son." Eddie argued as he resumed his work drying the glasses behind the bar.

"Come on!" the ginger pleaded. "I've been coming here for weeks. My brother and I've been doing business with you for months! Try me." he challenged once more.

The next words - at least according to Fred Weasley - would forever change the course of his life. Whether that would be for the better of for worse... It will always be up to judgement.

" **Elizabeth**. Elizabeth Carina **Black**."

● ♛ ●


	2. No Post on Sundays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Harry Becomes A Mailman

It had already been a busy night for the young wizard, when he finally apparated in front the Burrow. Along with his headmaster, they had succeeded at completing more than a couple of tasks, in just a couple of hours.

Dumbledore’s appearance over at the Dursley residence was more than enough to signal the beginning of an interesting night. Harry chuckled anytime he thought of his aunt and uncle’s reaction to the headmaster ringing their doorbell. Vernon and Dudley’s terror at the sight of the bearded wizard had caused heat to immediately rise to their cheeks, turning them into what Harry could only describe as overgrown tomatoes.

After the initial shock however, they had quickly focused on the matters at hand. His godfather’s will was read, announcing that he had left all of his belongings on Harry; including the house over at Grimmauld Place, along with a very grumpy Kreacher. Thankfully, the young wizard was able to send him off to Hogwarts, where he would work for the foreseeable future. To top things off, along with his headmaster, they quickly set off to visit a rather important figure - according to Dumbledore at least.

Horace Slughorn was an interesting character. That appeared to be most polite thing Harry could say about his now soon-to-be professor. Slughorn surely was ambitious - a classical Slytherin trait - and extremely smart to be able to avoid Death Eaters for so long. Harry however couldn’t help but dislike they way he talked about his students as if they were prizes. Especially when he had himself been treated more like an object, rather than a human being multiple times; and the way Slughorn talked about his students didn’t sit well with the young wizard.

Harry’s mood however couldn’t be crumbled by the events of the night. He had long decided he wouldn’t spend any more time wallowing in grief. He’d live as much as he could, and he’d fight as long as his body would let him. He was determined to destroy Voldemort’s plans. Or at least do his very best before the Dark Lord caught up to him. He was going to live. He owed it to Sirius.

So there the two wizards were, at a broomstick shed outside the Burrow. Dumbledore had requested a few more moments alone with Harry, where the young boy was informed he’d be meeting with his headmaster throughout the year for a couple of 'private lessons', adding one more thing to Harry’s long list of mental notes. It was the familiar scent of the Burrow however that kept any kind of nerves at bay. To him, the small house was freedom, it was warm, it was home.

''There is one last thing I’m afraid I have to burden you with Harry.'' said Dumbledore, his tone turning more serious than before.

''What is it?''

''I know these are dangerous times we live in, but know that I would never put your life in danger deliberately.''

''I know Sir.'' Harry stated quickly, eager to prove himself to his headmaster.

Dumbledore softly smile to the young boy before continuing. ''Sirius' will included one more thing that I am not at liberty to discuss with you. It was more of a… personal matter of his. In his will, he had stated that he wanted this envelope delivered to its recipient by this Sunday. I was wondering if you would be able to help an old man with a small task. It shouldn’t be too hard.''

''Of course Sir.'' Harry immediately answered. If Sirius needed his help, he was more than glad to do this one last thing for him. ''But, may I ask, why can’t you deliver it yourself?''

''Oh, I am not that welcome at that part of London.'' Dumbledore muttered, causing a small frown to take over Harry’s face. _How could Dumbledore not be welcomed in downtown London?_ ''The recipient isn’t entirely fond of me, i have to admit.''

''Who's the recipient?''

''A young girl. Only a year older than you.'' his headmaster explained simply, as he took out his wand and with a small wave, a rather large envelope appeared in front of them. On the top left corner, Sirius' full name was written in his signature handwriting. Harry always found it rather ironic that no matter how much his godfather hated his family name and all that came with being a Black, his handwriting and mannerisms always showed he was indeed raised as a part of the sacred twenty-eight. A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he thought of young Sirius learning calligraphy. But what intrigued Harry the most, was the fact that on the bottom right corner - were the recipient’s name should be - there was just a set of initials.

''It only says; E.C.B. There’s not full name. How will I find her?'' Harry wondered.

''Oh, I’m pretty sure Molly’s twins could help with that. They happen to have quite a few friends over at that neck of the woods.'' Dumbledore replied, a knowing smirk forming on his lips.

''But… Mrs. Weasley…?''

''I’ll talk to Molly.'' Dumbledore assured him with a small smile. ''I’ll even suggest sending Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger along with you and the twins as well. There’s safety in numbers; though I’m pretty sure you will be fine.''

''Okay then. I’ll be there Sunday.'' Harry nodded, a confident glint on his eyes.

''Perfect. Thank you Harry. You have been of excellent assistance tonight. One last thing. While you stay here, the Burrow has been given the highest security the Ministry of Magic can provide. These measures have caused a certain amount of inconvenience to Arthur and Molly — all their post, for instance, is being searched at the Ministry before being sent on. They do not mind in the slightest, for their only concern is your safety. However, it would be poor repayment if you risked your neck while staying with them.''

''I understand.''

''Very well, then,'' said Dumbledore, pushing open the broom shed door and stepping out into the yard. “I see a light in the kitchen. Let us not deprive Molly any longer of the chance to deplore how thin you are.”

● ♛ ●


	3. Hestia's Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Harry Gets A History Lesson

It was the second morning that Harry found himself waking up in the Weasley residence, and he still couldn’t believe he’d get to spend an entire summer there. Throwing the covers away, the young wizard quickly changed out of his pyjamas, and made his way to the kitchen. The familiar scent of homemade muffins and scrambled eggs filled his nose, as he descended the stairs of the Burrow. Bidding good morning to his friends that were already filling themselves with Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, he delved on a much needed breakfast. Harry hadn’t even thought of the task Dumbledore had asked him to complete. It was his best mate though, that made sure to remind him.

''So… private lessons and a special task?'' Ron wondered out loud, while chewing on a chocolate chip muffin. ''It’d be good to leave this place though, even for just a couple of hours.''

''Yeah, I just have to deliver this envelope.'' Harry nodded frowning slightly. He didn’t mean to forget about the task. He was just eager to spend a normal summer for once. ''The will states that it has to be delivered this Sunday the latest.''

''Great! Who are we delivering it to?''

''Um… I don’t exactly know.'' he admitted. ''There’s only a set of initials but Dumbledore said your brothers can help us.''

''Who? Bill?'' asked Ron.

''No, Fred and George. 'Said they were familiar with the region.''

''Well, if Dumbledore said so…'' Ron thought out loud, but his trail of thought was interrupted by Hermione giving him a look.

''What?'' inquired Harry.

Hermione sighed as she placed her knife and fork down beside her plate. "I’m just not sure if it’d be safe for you to leave the Burrow. I mean, those extra measures have been added around the house for a reason.'' she argued.

''Dumbledore said we should be fine. Fred and George know the place. There’s safety in numbers.'' Harry countered, quoting his headmaster’s words. ''Please Hermione, I have to do this. It’s the last thing I can do for _him_.'' he pleaded finally. Harry knew that involving Sirius' name was probably a low blow, but it was worth it if it meant convincing Hermione to join them.

Hermione’s face softened and she opened her mouth to reply, when a chorus of laughter echoed from the back door, and the two redheaded twins entered the kitchen.

''Morning family!'' they chorused together.

It was the first time Harry had seen them since they welcomed him home from Hogwarts express in the beginning of summer. They were wearing brand new robes, with hints of purple and orange — just like the WWW boxes Harry had seen in their room.

''Oh, there you are!'' Beamed Mrs. Weasley as she joined them in the kitchen. ''My little businessmen!'' she said as the twins kissed their mother hello. ''Here, help yourselves with breakfast. How have my boys been?''

''Great 'ma.'' answered Fred as they filled their plates.

''Shops booming, people are laughing…''

''But we sure missed your scrambled eggs.'' they finished in sync as they munched on their food.

''Aw, look at my babies all grown up!'' Mrs. Weasley added once more in aw before leaving them to themselves. ''I’ll leave you to it before I tear up again.''

''Love you 'ma!'' the twins chorused once again, before turning to face Harry and his friends. ''Hey Harry, Hermione, Ronald. Where’s Ginny?''

''With Fleur.'' said Ron as a dreamy sigh left his lips. Harry found it rather funny how his eyes would gloss over the minute Fleur would walk bye or talk to him. Not that he was any better anyway. It was hard to resist a Veela.

''Of course. Mum still can’t spend a second alone with her?'' chuckled Fred.

''Pretty much.''

''Anyways!'' sighed Fred dramatically. ''We heard…''

''Through the grapevine.'' added George.

''aka little Ginerva here.''

''That you need our help!'' said the twins as they both turned to face Harry, their usual mischievous smirks on their faces.

''Yeah.'' muttered Harry as he scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. He had gotten into a convesation with Ginny the previous night, and he was pleasantly surprised that the girl could read him like an open book. She immediately offered her help with the task, but opted to advise Harry to rely on the twins for help, as they probably were more equipped to deal with the task at hand. ''Dumbledore asked me to deliver an envelope by tomorrow. He said you guys know your way around the place.''

''Sure we can!'' Fred answered quickly.

''Yeah, we’re always up for a little adventure!'' added his twin.

''What does the address say?''

''Um…'' muttered Harry as he tried to remember the address on the envelope. He had been so focused on figuring out who the recipient was that he paid very little mind to the bizarre address on the bottom right corner, under the enigma that were the E.C.B. initials. ''Um… I think it was… **Hestia’s Lair**?''

As Hermione and Ron’s eyes widened in recognition, the twins grew ecstatic, identical smirks forming on their lips. Harry only gave his friends a confused expression. Why was the address such a shocking piece of information?

"Oh, look at him Georgie.'' cooed Fred as he pinched Harry’s cheeks as if he was a little kid before Harry could swat him away.

"To be young and innocent my brother." added George as his smile widened.

''Why? What’s 'Hestia’s Lair'?'' questioned Harry.

''Harry my boy… 'Hestia’s Lair' is the place your parents tell you to avoid when you're young." answered Fred.

"It's the place where innocent little souls like yourself never see." added George, his feet bouncing in excitement.

"Why? What is that place?" he questioned again, getting more irritated. The twins suddenly grew serious as they slowly moved to sit on either side of him, their faces merely a couple of inches away from his as they whispered…

"It's where the Underworld lives."

"Oh, for Godrick's sake!'' Hermione interrupted, throwing her hands in the air. "Don't confuse him any longer. And Harry, didn't you pay any attention at History of Magic?"

"Personally, I was under the impression that a witch as smart as you would have already given up hope that we'd pay any attention at what Binns says." objected Ron but quickly shut up when he saw Hermione's glare.

"Anyway…" sighed the young witch. "Harry, ’Hestia’s Lair' is a magical neighbourhood."

"Like Hogsmeade?"

"Not exactly. See, Hogsmeade is a wizarding village. 'The Lair', on the other hand, is a magical neighbourhood in the middle of London."

"What? Is that really a thing?'' asked Harry in astonishment. His mind was filled with questions. A wizarding village near Hogwarts at a remote location was one thing, but a magical neighbourhood under muggle noses can't be something that happens everywhere. "Wait, how does it work if it's in the middle of London?"

"The neighbourhood is Margaret Thibault’s vision coming to life."

"Who's Margaret Thibault?" questioned Harry while making a mental note to start paying a little bit more attention in History of Magic.

"She's a real psycho case, that's what she is." Ron butted in. "Nuts I tell you."

"Margaret Thibault is arguably — well, _very_ arguably —" Hermione added when she saw the Weasleys' faces. "…one of the smartest wizards 'Hogwarts' has ever seen. And that's including Dumbledore himself. The last of a long line of Ravenclaws, she greatly excelled in all subjects at school, often challenging her own professors. Most of them were annoyed, but Dumbledore adored her. After graduating Hogwarts with perfect grades she was offered a permanent position at the Ministry. She could have become Minister, or at least a high ranking official within the Ministry in my opinion, if she had chosen politics as a career…"

"What happened?" asked Harry while Hermione fiddled with her fingers.

"Well…" she mumbled but was the wizard's questioned was answered by the twins.

"She lost it." they chimed.

"After spending years over at Godrick knows where, she comes back and goes on a rant against everyone." said Ron.

"Everyone?" questioned Harry.

"Everyone." chorused the three Weasleys together as Harry withheld his chuckle. It was rather bizarre to see Ron in total sync with his brothers.

"The Ministry, most wizarding families, even Dumbledore himself." explained George.

"She went on rant against Dumbledore?" Harry questioned, his eyes widening in shock. That must be why his headmaster had said he wasn't welcomed near that place. But how could someone that was apparently exceedingly smart go on a public rant against Dumbledore. Especially at a time when he was continuously being offered the Minister position.

"Yeah. She publicly called him a fool in the middle of the Ministry." said Ron.

"What does she have against Dumbledore?" Harry asked, and Hermione was quick to explain.

"Margaret Thibault was _very_ gifted when it came to magic. From a very early point in her school career she had surpassed her classmates in knowledge and began experimenting on new forms of magic."

"What forms of magic?" asked Harry.

"Nobody really knows.'' answered the girl with a shake of her head. "The ministry didn't like her ideas, which is why she left the UK after graduating. She returned about 20 years later to try to convince the ministry to let her continue her work _here_. Apparently, it was deemed too dangerous. That was when she went on a rant against everything and everyone and she became Ravenclaw's greatest failure. At least that's what people would call her." she added in quickly as an afterthought.

"Wow. Thats harsh." sighed Harry, sitting back on his seat as he tried to process all the information he had been given.

"Harsh? You should have heard what _she_ said that day." the twins chimed.

"Yeah, legend says, even Dumbledore blushed in embarrassment." said Ron, and Harry couldn't help but ask one more thing.

"For her, or for him?"

His question was met with silence as neither Hermione, nor the Weasleys had the answer. To be honest, Harry didn't know what possessed him to ask that question. He had complete faith in Dumbledore, but the wizard himself had admitted to making mistakes before. He didn't seem angry when talking about not being welcomed in that part of London. He mostly seemed… sad.

Sensing the awkwardness spreading, Harry decided to revert the conversation back to its original subject. "So, what about 'Hestia’s Lair'?" he asked and Hermione swiftly came to his rescue.

"Apart from her experiments, some of her published articles and interviews can still be found in archives. She was a great believer that the entire magical world should unite if we truly wanted to thrive. In her eyes, centaurs, wizards, house elves, giants... we were all part of the same world. Even muggles. She was very fascinated by their work. It was obvious from an article of hers on 'The Daily Prophet'. When the wizarding world shunned her, she moved in downtown London and created what is now called 'Hestia’s Lair'; from the greek goddess 'Hestia', the goddess of family and home. Its a sanctuary where all magical creatures can live in peace. Its open to anyone that wishes to visit." she explained, a soft smile on her face.

"Sounds like an amazing place to be. Why don't more people live there?" questioned Harry. A place where everyone is welcome and magic is used freely couldn't be all bad. Could it?

"Because my dear friend, no one dares to touch that place." explained Fred. "Its like an actual sanctuary. Even the ministry doesn't dare to go against Maggie Thibault."

"Yeah. No matter the ridicule, everyone still shits their pants when talking about her." chuckled George. "She has eyes and ears everywhere on that place. You can’t even sneeze without her learning about it.''

''And not as many ministry officials means crime is not persecuted." added Fred. "At least not as much as everywhere else. Most of 'The Lair’s' inhabitants are thieves, con artists, smugglers…»

''Our kind of people.'' mused the twins.

''If crime is not persecuted, then how is that a safe sanctuary?'' asked Harry.

''It’s a sanctuary from _judgement_." explained Hermione once more. "Crime may be higher, but most of the neighbourhood’s inhabitants are used to that kind of life. Point is, no matter what you are and where you come from; there’s always a place for you at 'Hestia’s Lair' if you wished to join the family. Though Maggie Thibault’s ideas on experimental magic might have been a little extreme, I happen to find her views on equality quite refreshing. She would for sure want to join S.P.E.W. …'' mumbled Hermione as her thoughts trailed off.

''Still a crazy old hag.'' muttered Ron unimpressed. "Rules that place with an iron fist.''

''Well, I still have to go deliver the envelope…''

''Why don’t we join you Harry?" offered Fred cheerfully. "We’ve already been there a couple of times.''

''Yeah. We can make sure not a single hair on your pretty little head gets hurt.'' added George as he ruffled Harry's already untamed hair.

''Hey! If Harry’s going then I’m going as well!" Ron complained, and Harry smiled at his friend's eagerness to help him.

''There is no way your mother would allow this to happen.'' Hermione retorted as she threw the boys in the room a knowing glance.

''Well, when we arrived two nights ago, Dumbledore told her I had a message to deliver to an old friend of his while I'm staying here. I don’t think she’ll oppose to us helping Dumbledore. Especially if we’ll all go.'' argued Harry, bringing up the headmaster once again, hoping Hermione will finally be on board with the plan.

''Fine." she finally sighed in defeat. "I guess we could go. For the sake of helping Dumbledore. And I would love to visit that place. Out of magical curiosity of course.'' she added quickly.

''Of course.'' Ron chuckled softly as the girl shot him a glare. ''Mom's going to freak out, isn’t she?'' he asked his friends.

''Hell yeah.'' the twins chorused.

One by one, everyone finished their breakfast rather quickly, and headed out to complete the house chores for the day. Though George was quick to apparate back to the shop after finishing his meal, Fred stayed behind, telling his twin he's going to be a few minutes late.

"So, Harry. Who are we exactly delivering this envelope to?" Fred inquired, curiosity evident in his eyes.

"Oh, yeah." muttered Harry as he washed his plate on the sink. "I need some help with that as well. There's no full name, just the initials. Dumbledore said it's a girl, probably around seventeen." he explained.

"What are the initials?" wondered Fred.

"E.C.B." said Harry and watched as Fred's eyes widened for a second before shifting to focus on his plate. "You know her?" he asked.

"Nah…" muttered Fred, giving Harry his usual carefree smile. "But don't worry Harry. We'll figure it out."

And before Harry could utter another word, Fred had stormed out.

● ♛ ●


	4. A Day In The Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Lizzie wakes up late

One thing Lizzie had always hated, was being late. Never in her seventeen years on this planet, had she ever overslept. In fact, she had always viewed her punctuality, and talent in organisation, as two very crucial keys to her success.

But something had happened over the past few weeks, and locals had started to notice. When once her figure could always be spotted around 'The Lair' — either running around causing trouble as a child, or later on patrolling with her trusted crew — the grey-eyed beauty now spent most of her days hidden in the shadows. Locals assumed she had traded patrolling with smuggling — nothing too unusual for the children growing up in 'The Lair' — but they still couldn't hide their content whenever they'd spot her at 'The Wicked Wench', pouring her heart out on the piano.

She had always been an enigma — Elizabeth Lévesque. Ever since her very pregnant mother showed up at Margaret Thibault's doorstep seventeen years ago, little Lizzie had constantly been the talk of the neighbourhood. As a child, she was always seen running around the neighbourhood, her best friend, Jonathan, right by her side. She'd jump around shops and walls like it was nothing, often disappearing at the rooftops above. She was smart and quick, and most of all, happy.

When Athena Lévesque fell ill, little Lizzie's light started dimming. What was once a happy child turned into a sceptical soul. When her mother passed, the young girl was just seven years old. Her childhood was over way too fast.

With no one to take care of her, Margaret Thibault stepped up. She had known her mother for many years, but had never really spoken to outsiders — let alone get close to anyone. Up until Athena's death, Maggie Thibault had always remained a silent protector of the neighbourhood; keeping the ministry and the trouble out of 'Hestia's Lair'. Until the day she became a mother…

From that day on, little Lizzie grew up very fast. Training from the age of seven under one of the greatest witches alive, she learned many tricks — maybe more than a child should. Lizzie learned to embrace both the good and the bad in the world, seeing it as what it was; an endless supply of shades of grey. And when Albus Dumbledore came in to invite her to Hogwarts, Margaret Thibault reminded the locals why she was still a force to be reckoned with. Not trusting either Dumbledore or the ministry, she sent the headmaster away, saying the girl would get the best education she could ask for right there, by her adoptive mother's side. The wrath she had unleashed that day was but a mere example of the power she held, which both scared and gladdened the residents of her precious lair. That was the last day Margaret Thibault made a public appearance…

Ever since then, little Lizzie had become Maggie's voice around the place. With her adoptive mother's help, she had managed to bring a new age to the neighbourhood. Her team of trusted allies created what would be known by the locals as 'The Wolves'; a group of teens raised in 'The Lair' whose purpose was to make sure their cover was never blown. Their home might be a place ready to welcome anyone that needed sanctuary, but muggles weren't ready for magic just yet…

And that's how little Lizzie turned into an integral part of 'Hestia's Lair'. Soon, everyone got used to the girl's intimidating figure strutting around the streets. She was always polite, never causing a fight or raising her voice, a regalness surrounding her — as if she hadn't been raised in a tiny apartment, but a mansion as part of the sacred twenty-eight.

That period of peace didn't last long however. Soon, Lizzie became the talk of 'The Lair' once more. It was the day a little girl asked her a very simple question… 'What's your name?', the child had asked. And little Lizzie replied: Elizabeth. Elizabeth **Black**.

Some locals said they saw it coming, others simply can't accept it. But no matter the gossip, no matter the hushed words whispered about her behind closed doors, there was one thing everyone knew about Elizabeth; she hated being late.

● ♛ ●

Lizl squirmed in her sleep as she felt soft kisses being placed on her naked stomach. Her companion for the previous night slowly massaging her thighs as she left a trail of wet kisses from her breasts to her naval. Lizl, unable to hold herself, let our a soft moan as her eyes fluttered open, enjoying the view of Sheila, the best smuggler around 'The Lair', naked and on her knees in front of her.

"Morning baby." Sheila said huskily as she reached out to kiss Lizl's lips, their naked bodies colliding. Lizl gripped Sheila's hips tightly, her hands slowly reaching our to squeeze her ass as their kiss deepened, Lizl's tongue exploring the blonde's mouth as their moans intensified.

Sheila's tongue left Lizl's, leaving the brunette in need for more. A mischievous smirk formed on her lips though, as she went straight to attack Lizl's neck, licking and nibbling on that sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder.

"You know.'' Lizl breathed as her hands trailed up and down the blonde's body. "I wouldn't mind using you as an alarm everyday…"

Sheila softly chuckled against Liz, raising her eyes to meet her grey ones, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

"I don't know if I should be flattered or annoyed that you're using me." Sheila wondered out loud, and Lizl took the chance to flip them over, effectively straddling the blonde, caging her body with her own, teasing her with the sway of her hips. "Then again, a little using is fine with me…" Sheila admitted as a strangled moan left her lips when Lizl reached down and bit hard on her left breast.

Lizl kept torturing the blonde by playing with her breasts, kissing and sucking and playing with her body in ways that slowly drove her crazy. When the brunette raised her mouth back to her companion's, it was Sheila's turn to flip them over.

Lizl whined with the change, but she was effectively silenced when Sheila went straight for the spot between her legs. As the blonde licked and sucked, Lizl was slowly coming apart, her hand coming up to squeeze her breasts, in desperate need of release.

"Oh, fuck baby…" Lizl moaned and the blonde only hummed in response, sending a wave of delightful vibrations that spread through Lizl's entire body.

_"Sorry to burst your bubble ladies, but all moaning is suspended till Lizl finishes patrolling!"_

Sheila let out an annoyed huff and Lizl an unsatisfied whine as a voice from outside the apartment disrupted their little session.

"Go away buzzkill!" yelled Sheila as she sat up on her bed.

Lizl drew the girl in for one final kiss, tasting herself on her lips.

"I'll be out in a sec!" she yelled as she picked up her scattered clothes form last night and headed to the bathroom. She was late, and that never sat well with her, let alone Maggie, who would probably chastise her for missing the morning patrol. Thank god for Liam having her back.

"Only way I'm giving you a sec is if I join you!" came Liam's voice from the other side of the door.

Sheila put on a robe and made her way to the door. Sliding it open, she allowed Lizl's right hand man in, an annoyed scowl on her face. Liam only gave her a smirk and a nod in return.

"Not today honey!" came Lizl's voice form inside the bathroom.

"Or any day for that matter." muttered Sheila as she headed to get a glass of water.

Liam's smirk never faded though, as he turned around, examining Sheila's apartment. It was a rather large — at least of 'The Lair' 's standards studio apartment, that resembled a warehouse more than an actual home. Sheila didn't have a lot of furniture, just a king sized bed, a kitchen and a small television. To an outsider, it would seem as a pretty humble place to live. To Liam's keen eye however, it was not. Scattered around the room were dozens of various sized boxes, all sealed off magically, most likely containing various products that the blonde had smuggled inside the neighbourhood, ready to sell.

"You would me Sheila. Truly." he smirked and clutched his heart in mock hurt, reverting his eyes back to the blonde beauty in front of him. She was tall, blonde and drop-dead gorgeous. Funnily enough, a description that would fit the young boy as well.

"Sorry baby. But you don't really have what I need." she sassed in response, eyeing Liam from head to toe.

"And here I thought I had an advantage; being such a gorgeous man and all."

"Not with me honey." she mused as she slowly crept closer to the boy, running her nails on his leather jacket, humming softly as she traced a line from his chest to the hem of his jeans.

"Oh, yeah?" he smirked, his eyes meeting hers.

"Yeah…" Sheila hummed softly before giggling. "your sister is more up my alley though…" she smirked and Liam snorted, the girl throwing a final wink over at him.

"I'm ready!" Lizl announced as she exited the bathroom. Her leather jacket on, her boots clicking against the floors of the apartment, signalling her appearance. "Bye Sheila." she smiled softly and kissed the girl goodbye, her tongue diving in her mouth one last time, causing a grunt to emit out of Liam's mouth.

"Bye sweetie. I'll be here if you need me again." Sheila winked after giving Lizl a small package before the two leather-clad friends left the smugglers apartment.

● ♛ ●

"So, how late am I?" asked Lizl as she walked through the busy streets of 'Hestia's Lair', Liam always be her left side.

"Late enough for Maggie to ground you." he smirked as they turned right into a small passage within their home. Through their years of exploring and protecting 'The Lair', they had learned every secret alleyway by heart.

"I'm not a child. I don't get grounded anymore." snorted the girl as they climbed over a fire escape and into a dark alley.

"You never got grounded. And even when you did you just snuck out. After the first couple of times Maggie stopped trying." corrected Liam and Lizl only snorted in response.

The two friends kept pacing, locals moving out of their way, enabling them to maintain a steady pace. Liam was one her very few friends, and Lizl trusted him completely.

When Maggie first built the neighbourhood, it was nothing but a small square in between apartment buildings, and very few magical families trusted her enough to live there. The first inhabitants where those alienated by the wizarding world. Some werewolves, a couple of goblins that had been shunned from their homes and wizards that didn't have a roof over their heads. It was a rather depressing place. But as more people moved in, the happier and brighter it got.

One of the first — and only — 'high status' families to move there were the **Rosiers**. Part of the sacred twenty-eight, a noble pureblood family decided to put their safety in Maggie's hands. Liam's grandfather — Chester Rosier — owed his life to Maggie — though the old witch would never admit as to why — and so he decided to move his family to 'Hestia's Lair'.

With a rich pureblood family living there, Lizl's safe haven gained popularity. More and more rich magical families asked for a place there. Slowly, 'Hestia's Lair' had become its own little community. All kinds of shops started opening and flourishing; from bakeries, to libraries, to restaurants and bars and shops with things young wizards couldn't even imagine. Nowadays, even though most of its inhabitants are not the wealthiest of folks — including Lizl herself, who was raised in hand-me-down robes — it was a place filled with life. A place where even a broke homeless orphan could work to achieve things much greater than anyone ever thought…

"So, how's it going out there?" inquired Lizl.

"More and more attacks everyday." explained Liam, handing the girl a copy of 'The Daily Prophet.' Muggles are going crazy. If this escalates…"

"We're going to be facing severe exposure. Fuck." growled Lizl lowly as they on walking. With the amount of Death Eaters running wild, it was only a matter of time when they'd manage to infiltrate her home. And she wouldn't let that happen. "We have to be extra careful. Scrimgeour may not be as stupid as Fudge — or as naive to believe that he's the most powerful man in the Ministry — but he won't be on our side either. We need to keep a low profile. Nobody causes any trouble that leads back to 'The Lair'."

"You're asking me to monitor a magical neighbourhood with over a thousand inhabitants while making sure no muggle enters and we stay clear off the Ministry's radar?" Liam asked, eyebrows raised.

"You're saying you can't do it?" smirked Lizl, a glint of mischief evident in her eyes. Liam's shocked expression though quickly turned into a cocky smirk.

"Never said that darling. I'll put extra patrols. Make sure my guys make their presence evident around the place. Locals love us so it should be fine. It'll scare outsiders enough to keep any real funny business outside."

"Good. You take care of our people, I'll make sure to keep the Death Eaters out." she nodded as they made their way to her destination.

"Have you given a thought to putting us on lockdown?" asked Liam, but the girls answer was immediate.

"Fuck no. We'll face any threat that knocks our door, but I'm not closing the borders. Anyone wishing to be a part of this family, they're welcome to join." she stated, her voice able to send a chill down anyone's spine. She'd always been protective of her family, and she was very aware of that. In the back of her mind, a little voice would whisper that her family would be her ultimate weakness, her downfall. That's why she had long decided to keep people at arms length. Only letting a total of five people saw her as she truly was.

"Good. I'm proud of you." smiled Liam as the two seventeen-year-olds stopped in front of a voodoo shop.

"Uh, you're acting all big brotherly again. I hate it." Lizl scowled and Liam couldn't help but chuckle.

"I know you do. Which is why I love doing it." he smiled and gave her shoulder a squeeze, signalling goodbye.

"You're coming to see Mags?"

"Fuck no." he breathed, his face turning paler. "Though it's quite entertaining to see her yell at someone that ain't myself, I'm pretty sure she'll find a couple of things to blame on me anyways. Good luck Liz." he smiled as he turned around to leave.

"Hey Liam!" Liz yelled, effectively stopping the blonde boy form leaving. "Maggie built this place, but us two; we made it what it is today. I appreciate all you've done for it." she smiled softly, letting her guard down for just a second.

"Anything for family, right?"

"Yeah." breathed Lizl as Liam throw her a flirty wink.

"Including the occasional sexual favour?" he proposed and Lizl almost choked in laughter.

"Oh, go play with yourself!"

● ♛ ●

"You're late." were the first words to come of out her mother's mouth as Lizl stepped foot in her store.

With no family money, Maggie had to find a way to make an income in order to support herself and later on, her daughter. She opted to open her own voodoo shops, selling a variety of objects. From tarot cards and divination supplies, to herbs, used magical artefacts, potions and used books. On the first glance, it was a dark mess, looking like a cluttered version of Borgin and Burkes. But it was Lizl's home, and she was more than happy to be there.

"Love you too Mags!" said Lizl sarcastically as she kissed her mother's cheek and gave her the package Sheila had delivered. Maggie quickly checked the contents of the box and closed it again with a satisfied smirk.

"You should be glad you have Liam covering for you. I haven't been keeping this place safe all these decades by sleeping in." she chastised her daughter, raising her finger to point at Liz as if she was a five-year-old caught eating form the cookie jar.

"Won't happen again Mags. It's all covered."

"I know it won't." Maggie smiled knowingly before turning her gaze to focus on one of her potions. "Look, Elizabeth, I know you want to take over for me when the day comes…"

"I'll be ready by then. This place will be running smoothly. Or as smoothly as it can." Lizl assured quickly, but Maggie shushed her.

"Patience is a virtue my child." she scolded. "Wait till the other person speaks before you jump to conclusions."

"Oui mère. Je suis désolé de vous interrompre."

"C'est d'accord mon amour. Tout est pardonné. What I was going to say was; it's okay to live a little. Your life can't just be 'The Lair'. And I know you don't want that either. Such a brilliant mind deserves to visit all the places this world can offer."

"I know… Mais je tiens à vous aider." explained Lizl. She had seen how protecting her home had worn Maggie out as the years passed. The Thibault witch had took her in and raised her as her own without a question. Taking care of her vision was Lizl's way or repaying her.

" _It's okay_ child. _It's okay_ to not want to live here forever. We'll be fine over here. I'm not that old yet. And certainly not that vulnerable." smirked the old witch.

"That you are not." Lizl snorted. "Did you check the mail today?"

"Nothing delivered yet." said Maggie as a frown took over Lizl's expression.

"Okay." said the girl as she nodded her mother goodbye and made her way to the door. She still had patrolling to do.

"There's still time, you know." added Maggie knowingly, silently urging her daughter to have more patience.

"I know." sighed the girl. "I'm heading out for patrol."

"Être prudente. Restez forte ma fille." instructed Maggie.

"Toujours."

● ♛ ●

_The Lair…_

_Her father…_

_Death Eaters…_

_Voldemort…_

Dozens of thoughts swirling in Lizl's mind as she walked around the alleys of her home. It was a bold move calling herself Elizabeth Black all of a sudden, but it had to happen. She was tired of living in the shadows. If she was going to make a difference in the world, she'd have to step up.

_Harry Potter…_

Ever since young Harry Potter first made the news, he had been added in Lizl's growing list of problems. Sure, he was strong and bold — a true Gryffindor — but he was also reckless and seemed to attract trouble like a magnet. If he was really the one to bring Voldemort down… would he rise up to the occasion?

The only times her thoughts seemed to be silenced was whenever she'd wave the day goodbye and head over to 'The Wicked Wench'. Some nights, she'd even convince the owner — Eddie — to let her play the piano. Her fingers would glide softly across the keys, her head focused on nothing but the music… real silence. She'd meet new people that had visited for the day, hear their adventures from lands she'd visit when everything was over. Lizl wasn't an optimist — more of a realist actually — but she'd catch herself dreaming of all of her troubles ending. Maybe the infamous Harry Potter would defeat Voldemort… Maybe the Ministry will realise all magical creatures are equal… Maybe wizards will realise calling someone's phone is far easier than sending an owl…

Lizl softly chuckled as she though back to when she taught Maggie how to use a phone. Or when she brought a television home and insisted they'd all watch muggle shows together. It was more than a little entertaining…

"Hey!" came a voice from behind Liz as she was pulled away from her thoughts. "How you doin'?" winked the petite girl flirtatiously, mimicking a character from one of Lizl's favourite muggle shows.

"Hey Cait. I know I shouldn't have let you watch muggle shows with me." she chuckled as the small girl fell into step with her, exactly like her twin brother had done just not that long before. "What's the word from up above?"

"Some trading, some smuggling, nothing much." muttered the girl airily, the smile never leaving her berry painted lips. "Muggles are in the dark and no Ministry official is knocking on our doors. It's almost… normal."

"Don't jinx it." warned Lizl as Caitlin stopped to pick a pair of roses form a nearby garden.

"Where are you headed?" she asked, fiddling with her flowers.

"To see Jonathan. Shouldn't you be working?"

"Taking a small brake. Even hawks need some time to stop and smell the flowers.'' she chuckled and added a childlike skip to her step. "Sheila delivered what I need?"

"Yep. Maggie will have your stuff ready within the week." Lizl assured her friend. "Now check this out; Sheila also delivered _this_."

Lizl extended her right hand and raised it up to meet Caitlin's gaze. As usual, Lizl's fingers were decorated with various rings — though there was one significant addition; the Black family ring. The crest of the noble house of Black etched upon it, silver coating their emblem.

"Damn. That bitch is crazy, but she's an excellent smuggler." hummed Caitlin as she ogled the ring.

"She sure is." smirked Lizl as her friend giggled softly.

"You're saying that because you're sleeping with her."

"Well, apart from smuggling, she's very skilled with her tongue." smirked Lizl as she clicked her tongue playfully.

"Still, she's crazy as fuck." countered Cait before raising herself to a building's fire escape, making her way to the rooftops.

"Bonkers." sighed Lizl. _"But aren't we all?"_

● ♛ ●

Lizl didn't have to search long before she found her best friend. As always, Jonathan had his nose stuck in his notebook, scribbling notes, writing about anything and everything. He was sitting on the doorstep of his house, not giving a damn about the people talking and the kids playing around him. 

Lizl approached him slowly and pressed a kiss on his cheek, drawing his attention away from his notebook and on her. His soft brown curls bounced as he turned his head to meet her eyes.

"How's the best up-and-coming journalist doing?" she smiled as she took her friend's hand, helping him stand up and join her at a walk.

"Trying to figure out his next piece." answered Jonathan, stuffing his notes in his bag.

"Your newspaper column was a great idea. 'Hestia's Voice' has never been more popular." Lizl complimented as she picked a copy of the local newspaper from a nearby stand, shuffling through the pages and showing him his work like a proud mom. "My baby is all grown up!" she beamed and Jonathan chuckled as his cheeks turned red in embarrassment. "What?" she asked.

"Your public displays of affection are confusing people. Usually, your strut is enough to scare them all shitless." chuckled Jonathan and Lizl finally noticed the confused looks the locals were giving her.

"I'm not _that_ scary."

"No, you're just intimidating enough for no one to block your way." snorted Jonathan as Lizl rolled her eyes at her best friend.

"What's wrong with that?" she questioned. "My PDA is limited to you anyways."

"Well, I'm a very lucky man. Liam has never gotten a kiss on the cheek." Jonathan smiled triumphantly as he nudged his friend's shoulder.

"I was nice today." argued Lizl, but she knew that was a fight she'd probably miss. Being sweet was never one of her strong suits.

"You slept late so he covered for you and you thought to give him a bone?"

"He's not a dog!" countered Lizl. "And he's family. I was just being sweet."

"You're never sweet. You're smart enough to kill people with politeness though. It's kind of terrifying. Maybe _you_ should be the writer. You do have a way with words." rambled Jonathan.

"Nah… I'll leave the story-telling to you. Maybe when I'm an old hag I'll write a memoir or two…" Lizl trailed off suggestively before turning serious. "What's the talk on the streets about the big reveal?"

"Just sent an anonymous letter to 'The Prophet' this morning." answered Jonathan with a shrug. "Caitlin will keep an eye for any journalists coming to confirm the story. You think they'll believe it?"

"People believe what they want to believe. Maybe they're not ready for Sirius Black to have a seventeen-year-old daughter."

"People around here have been warming up on it. Saying they should've known all along." Jonathan added but Lizl snorted in response.

"That's bullshit."

"No it's not." he was quick to add. "Hair as dark as a raven, grey eyes, a walk that can strike fear on anyone's soul. Not to mention the crazy uncanny resemblance to your father's WANTED poster whenever you're mad. If it walks like a Black and talks like a Black…"

"Good then." hummed Lizl. "All I need is for Dumbledore to do his part and we're all set for your first front page article."

"Yeah." beamed Jonathan. "Daughter of a murderer running wild!" he suggested with excitement but Lizl threw him a less-than-friendly glare. "Or something more tactful." he offered. "See you tonight at the bar?"

"Yeah. See ya kid."

● ♛ ●

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oui mère. Je suis désolé de vous interrompre. ~ Yes mother. I'm sorry for interrupting you.  
> C'est d'accord mon amour. Tout est pardonné. ~ It's okay my love. All is forgiven.  
> Mais je tiens à vous aider. ~ But I want to help you.  
> Être prudent. Restez forts ma fille. ~ Be carefull. Stay strong my daughter.  
> Toujours. ~ Always.


	5. Trouble At The Wench

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When He Beats Her Arse At Pool

Harry stared desperately at the clock in the Weasley household, trying to will the seconds to go by faster. He had been terribly nervous the entire day, a gut feeling in his stomach trying to warn him that things were going to go so wrong. He could practically feel the envelope burning a whole through his jacket. Its weight suddenly felt heavy, as if he was carrying a bag of books instead.

Along with Ron and Hermione — all dressed in Muggle clothes — they had been waiting at the Weasley kitchen for at least half an hour. The twins were supposed to apparate nearby, and together they'd floo over to their destination — since all three wizards were too young to apparate, and the house was under strict surveillance.

"So, what time are we leaving?" asked Harry impatiently, his foot bouncing up an down in an effort to calm his nerves.

"Fred and George are probably going to be here any second…" answered Ron, but Hermione was quick to cut him off, probably as nervous as Harry about their upcoming trip.

"How are we going to get from here to downtown London?" she asked and her question was quickly answered as the twins entered the kitchen.

"That…"

"…our dear Hermione…"

"… is an excellent question." they chorused.

Harry couldn't help but notice that they were dressed slightly differently than what they were used to. Instead of their signature magenta and orange colours — curtesy of the official logo of WWW — they now sported a darker attire. Instead of wanting to make their presence known immediately as always, they looked as if they wanted to become one with the dark alleys of downtown London.

"We'll floo over to a friend's house and walk from there." explained Fred as he went straight for the fireplace, searching for the small box of floo powder.

"Freddie and I usually apparate somewhere around the area anyways whenever we visit 'The Lair'." continued George.

"Can't you apparate straight inside?" questioned Hermione, a sceptical look still on her face.

"Nah…" mumbled Fred. "Only locals are allowed to do that. Plus, it'd be rude to just apparate in someone's home without asking."

"And if anything, we pride ourselves on being real gentlemen." smirked George as he puffed his chest out, his brother quick to imitate him and offer some advice.

"Now, there are a couple of rules when going to 'Hestia's Lair'." warned Fred, staring directly to Harry and his friends.

"Stay out of trouble…"

"…Stay close…"

"…Keep your nose clean…"

"…And hold the staring to a minimum." finished Fred as the familiar glint of the mischief maker returned to his eyes.

"Why would we stare? Is the place that terrible?" questioned Hermione, but the older Weasley twin wasn't fazed by her question.

"Oh, quite the opposite actually."

● ♛ ●

The first thing that came to Harry's mind as soon as he arrived at the foreign fireplace was one word; dust. Fred had gone first, Harry choosing to go second, though he terribly regretted it. To call that place filthy would be an understatement.

The floo network had led the boy to an abandoned apartment — probably somewhere in London — that looked as if no one had lived there for years. For Godrick's sake, Grimmauld Place seemed cleaner than that place. Most of the furniture was covered in white sheets — though they had turned grey as the time had flown by. Dozens of cardboard boxes were scattered around — most of them either half burned of ripped open — and let's not forget the mice that Harry could swear saw walking by the walls.

"Why is this place so dirty?" coughed Ron as him and Hermione came through the dingy fireplace, George following soon afterwards.

"Cause our friend doesn't really live here anymore." shrugged Fred.

"Yeah, he decided to move to new and exciting places." beamed his twin as he made his way to the front door.

"Who was that friend?" questioned Ron.

"Fletcher Hemmings."

"What?" squealed Hermione, though Harry wasn't sure if it was from the reveal of the name or the roaches running wild in the small apartment. " _The_ Fletcher Hemmings? He's wanted all around Britain for smuggling dragon eggs!"

"Can't judge someone by their job description Hermione." Fred scolded playfully. "Fletchie's a good man."

"In fact he's so good, that now, even though he's fled the country, he still let us use his house for this." beamed George as he opened the front door and allowed their small group to head outside and breathe the evening air.

With the twins leading them, the five wizards made their way though small alleys, often ducking behind dumpsters of abandoned parks to get to their destination. Keeping an entire community a secret was not an easy task, and that meant that reaching it wouldn't be a piece of cake either.

"So, where is this place exactly?" questioned Ron, voicing his friend's thoughts along with his own.

"Hush Ronald. You'll see soon enough." came the answer from his brothers.

The five wizards soon entered a narrow street, small stores on either side. As the street got narrower, the buildings got taller, almost suffocating Harry and his friends. They kept on walking down the cobblestone path, before stopping in front of a rather peculiar book store. When Harry opened his mouth to question the twins' actions, they both raised their fingers to their lips, and Harry's mouth immediately shut. Sparing one last glance around the street, the twins motioned for the three kids to enter the store.

The book store was — even for people that didn't enjoy the occasional read — simply beautiful. Instead of one large space, it consisted of small rooms, each with its own theme. All around the place were tiny gold decorations, softly glistening as if the morning sun was hitting them… 'Magic…', Harry thought, as the twins led them to a narrow corridor in the far end of the store. There, etched upon the ceiling in gold paint, were the words; " _New worlds will open the doors to you, if you only follow the books."_

Harry scrunched his nose in thought as he read the words above his head. But his questions would soon be answered by none other than Hermione, who nudged him and pointed her finger on the floor. While most wooden tiles looked polished and brand new, some had writing inscribed on them. The closer the boy looked, the more he understood. On each engraved tile, laid a book title. From "Ulysses", to "The Divine Comedy", to "Hamlet" and "Pride and Prejudice", the engraved tiles formed a line that led their little group to another corridor.

As soon as his friends stopped pacing, Harry raised his eyes form the floor back to their little group. On the end of the narrow corridor, was a mirror. Gold floral patterns surrounding it, and on its top, one phrase; "The door to new worlds."

With one final smirk from each twin, Harry watched as Fred and George stepped right into the mirror, disappearing to a different place…

● ♛ ●

"Wow." were the only words that the three friends could form as they stepped through the mirror and into "Hestia's Lair."

The place was nothing like the stories described. To Harry, it was as magical as walking through Diagon Alley for the first time. The only sound that the young wizard seemed to hear was laughter.

They had found themselves in a small square. All around, children were laughing and playing games; spraying each other on the fountain and pulling pranks. The tall apartments buildings around the square seemed to have more character than Hogsmeade. The place seemed — to put it simply; alive.

Each apartment had its own heart, its own personality. In some, mothers were baking various goods to treat the families. In others, young witches and wizards could be heard laughing and talking about work.

On the ground, shops were booming; from the tiny pastry shop in the corner, to the large furniture one where locals were bargaining prices loudly. For Harry, all that life seemed so amazing. Even mother's chastising their children for being late somehow felt like music to the young boy's ears. Why did outsiders think that place was dangerous? It actually seemed… normal.

"Yeah. Wow." smirked the twins at their friends' awestruck faces.

"So, the entrance is through a tiny bookstore?" asked Hermione, her eyes scanning the square with shock.

"There are four entrances in total." explained George. "This is just our favourite one. Plus, it's the closest one to 'The Wench'."

"What's 'The Wench'?" asked Ron.

"It's the local pub. 'Wicked Wench' they call it." replied Fred, motioning for their little group to start walking. "After some weirdo pirate's ship that Eddie's mother knew back in the day."

"Eddie?" asked Ron.

"The owner. He's our plan B at finding your mystery girl, Harry."

"What's plan A?" inquired Harry, finally snapping out of his shock and focusing on the task at hand. Discretely checking for the envelope in his left jacket pocket.

"Oh, that's more Georgie's alley." smirked Fred as he threw a wink over at his brother, who blushed a deep red in response.

"Plan A is a girl named Zara." the other twin rushed to respond. "She's like the more attractive version of Filtch. Knows everything and everyone around the 'Lair'. She's a real gossip, but sometimes you need those, as well. If mystery girl lives here, Zara'll know about her."

"Why don't we just go ask around if anyone know a girl with the initials E.C.B.?" quipped Ron. "What's wrong about that?"

"Everyone in this place is very protective of each other." explained Fred, his voice dropping as the last rays of sunlight shone their light around the streets of 'The Lair'. "Locals are usually those that the wizarding community shunned. They don't particularly like outsiders poking around their business."

"Especially the kind of business people do here, I assume." muttered Hermione as the twins hummed in response.

"You've assumed correctly. Which is why you three stay with us at all times." insisted George. "Keep close and no trouble will come our way."

"Yeah. We'll have a drink!" laughed Fred as he shook his brother's shoulders playfully. "Georgie here will convince little Zara to help us and we'll be off to deliver Harry's envelope in no time."

● ♛ ●

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared in the night sky, 'The Lair' turned into something completely different. Children immediately rushed home, and a new set of faces came out of the shadows.

There was no more laughter. Only hushed words and the sound of coins being exchanged. It seemed as if 'The Lair' had two faces; same coin, different side.

The group of five took a left turn from the small square and reached the infamous 'Wicked Wench' pub. Pushing the large wooden doors, the twins introduced the trio to another first.

"Welcome to 'The Wicked Wench folks!" the sang in sync as they nudged the young wizards inside the pub.

The smell of smoke and liquor was the first thing Harry noticed. All around the pub, magical creatures where drinking, dealing cards or smoking different mixtures of magical herbs. On their left, a large bar where the waitresses would go to supply themselves with drinks. And on the far end of the pub, a pool table next to a makeshift stage where a band was playing one of their songs.

Every creature within the pub seemed to have been caught in a haze. Maybe it was the music, or the alcohol, or the smoke… or maybe it was all of the above. No one seemed to give a damn whether the person they were speaking to was a goblin, or half troll, or even a vampire. They were drunk in 'The Lair's' charm, and they were enjoying it.

"There's my favourite pair of twins!" greeted a voice. It was the bartender — who Harry assumed was the infamous Eddie — who waved the twins over as if they were old friends. "Well, second favourite." he chuckled as a young blonde came into the picture.

Harry immediately recognised the girl. It was Caitlin Rosier. Her and her twin brother Liam were probably one of the weirdest students he'd ever run across at Hogwarts. Continuing their family legacy by being Slytherins, the Rosier twins were always rather peculiar. They didn't have many friends, mostly kept to themselves, and had this really weird way of communicating. Most of the time, they didn't even speak to each other, somehow managing to get through the day by using their eyes only. While Caitlin was the sweetest of the two, her quirks didn't help her to make many friends in Hogwarts. As for her brother, he gained the title of heartthrob fairly quickly. They were fiercely protective of each other. Harry quickly recalled a time when a Ravenclaw boy had tried to make a pass on Cait after she'd already denied him. After confronting him, Liam had earned a month's detention with McGonagall, and the young boy two black eyes and a broken nose.

But Cailtin didn't seem to give the group even a fraction of the attention they were giving her. Shrugging as id their presence was anything but news, she took a bottle of firewhiskey from behind the bar and left, paying them no mind whatsoever.

Soon after the blonde's exit though, another girl made her appearance. A petite girl with dark skin and a bright smile approached the twins, her eyes fixed on George.

"Ask and you shall receive my brother." muttered Fred as he nudged his twin forward, George landing right in front of the petite blonde.

"Hey Zara." he smiled as the girl threw him a flirtatious wink. Not bothering with an answer, she simply raised her hand, which George gladly took, and led the Weasley boy to a more remote place within the pub.

She was the one that was going to help them? If really she was such a gossip, how did they know she coudl be trusted?

"Don't worry Harry. Georgie knows this is more of a way to pass the time. She'll help us deliver your letter though." assured Fred, as he waved the bar owner over. "How's it going Eddie?"

"The usual." grumbled the man. "A couple of fights, lots of drinks, good company. Who have you brought with you?" asked Eddie, motioning to Harry and his friends.

"My brother and his best friends. Thought we'd show 'em a good time before they go back to school. Figured the best way was to bring 'em here." smirked Fred as he grabbed a beer from Eddie.

"Damn straight it is. Here, around of flare shots for the kids! On me." the man offered as Harry and his friends raised the shot glasses to their noses, their face crinkling with the scent of the flare shots.

"Thanks Eddie. I appreciate it." waved Fred as he led the group of four to a nearby table to sit down.

"What are those?" asked Hermione as she inspected the liquid. Its colorr was a deep red, with a weird hew of gold on the top.

"Shots. Made from crushed dragon scales. You don't have to drink 'em if you don't want to. Plus, we need your heads' straight for our little mission." explained Fred and the girl was quick to put the drink down.

"Where'd George go with that girl?" asked Ron.

"Don't worry. He'll be back soon enough." explained Fred as he scanned the pub until his eyes lit up in recognition. Harry tried to follow the ginger's eyes, in an effort to figure out what he was looking at, but ended up with nothing. "Plan A was never supposed to work. Neither plan B for that matter."

"What? How are we going to find E.C.B. then?" Harry whisper-yelled as he inched closer to the Weasley twin.

"Patience my friend. You three, keep your noses clean while I put plan F in motion."

"Plan F?" asked Hermione as Fred stood up, grabbed a hold of his beer and turned away from their table.

"For Fred, of course."

● ♛ ●

Lizl's signature smirk formed on her lips as cue stick hit the pool ball, her shot as accurate as always, effectively winning the game against her blond friend.

"Really? Again? How on Earth do you do that?" groaned Liam as he stared the pool table in amazement. He wasn't even half way done with his balls.

Lizl let a carefree giggle as she watched her friend's frustrated face. "I just happen to be _that_ amazing darling."

"I'm out. Can't do it anymore." announced Liam as he stepped away from the table, a line of foul words slipping though his lips.

Lizl's smirk never fell from her face as she gathered the pool balls for the next game, still giddy from defeating her friend. As there were no worthy opponents left, she opted to play alone. As she was ready to break however, a deep voice gained her attention. "Hey gorgeous. Need a new opponent? I bet I could teach you a couple of things." smirked a man from behind her.

When Lizl turned to face the man, her giddy smirk turned into a look of distain. 'Of course.' she though as she realised who she was talking to. It was Marcus Fray, possibly one of the most stupid wizards around 'The Lair'. He'd always come on to women with crude jokes and inappropriate comments, and apparently he was drunk to the point when he thought approaching Elizabeth Black out of all people, was a wise choice to make.

Wiping the look of clear disgust, Lizl looked over the man with a smile. She slowly stepped toward him, her eyes never leaving his. As the drunk idiot leaned over to meet her gaze, Lizl raised her leg and kneed him right in the balls. Marcus let out a groan of pain as he toppled down, anger evident in his bloodshot eyes. Lizl, having had enough of the fool that had the audacity to approach her, raised her fist and stroke his throat, effectively closing his wind pipe. With one final push, Marcus was face down against the pool table, his right hand bent at an excruciatingly unnatural manner.

"Oh honey…" whispered Lizl as her lips grazed the mans ear, simultaneously applying more pressure on his arm. "I already know plenty. Don't worry your little peanut of a brain over me."

Lizl quickly released him and the man was quick to run away frantically. She smirked to herself, the spark of the devil in her eyes as she watched the man run away from the pub, locals not giving a shit about his pain. 'He should have known better.' she thought smugly as she watched him exit the pub.

That incident wasn't anything unusual for the standards of 'The Lair', so no one really paid any mind to the confrontation. All but one.

When Lizl heard his laughter, she immediately turned her head, sending the young man a glare that could freeze anyone on the spot.

"You're laughing." she accused the boy with the fiery hair as he stared at her.

He didn't look at her in the same way Marcus did. Or in the same way the rest of the locals did. There was no fear, no filthy thoughts.

His eyes were pure and honest. And that confused Lizl to no end. What _was_ that look?

"If it makes you feel any better. I'm laughing at him." the boy explained as he pointed towards the door from where Marcus had exited, just a couple of seconds before.

Lizl, not wanting to give the young boy any satisfaction, decided to deny her evident distain towards the man she'd beat up.

"I could've liked him." she argued, a childlike huff escaping her lips.

Instead of backing down, like most men would have done at that point — because, well, Lizl's not the friendliest of people — the ginger only smiled at her. "No you wouldn't. You wouldn't be able to stand him even for a minute. That peanut brain of his would drive you mad."

"And you think you have a shot." she asked, her eyebrow raising and her arms coming together in front of her.

But the boy surprised her again. His gaze didn't falter. Instead, he took a step forward, his chest almost touching her folded arms.

"A pretty good one." he smirked, and before Lizl's expression could turn into one of indifference, he raised pool stick. "At pool. I offer a game. You up for challenge?"

Lizl tapped her chin playfully as he studied the boy in front of her. Maybe another game to prove her superiority wouldn't be so bad. "You're hardly a challenge Fred Weasley." she quipped and for once, the boy was the one sitting there shocked.

"How do you know who I am?" he asked.

"If it looks like a Weasley and it walks like a Weasley…"

"I could've been George." he argued, and Lizl's playful nature returned in full force.

"Nah. He's all up on Zara. You're the one that keeps staring at me from the bar." she explained with a smirk as she witnessed the cocky smile leave Fred's face as he blushed deep red. "And here I thought you were the ballsy one of the two."

As Lizl turned on her feet however, Fred was quick to regain consciousness and raise the stakes. "If you're so ballsy, why don't you prove it? One game, winner takes all." he offered, and Lizl's interest peaked instantly.

"All?" she asked, twirling her pool stick in her hand.

"I win, you go out with me." he offered and Lizl scoffed at the predictability of the situation.

"And if I win?" she asked, her eyes scanning the boy as he spoke.

"Whatever you wish. I'm all yours." he offered, and Lizl simply couldn't refuse. She was already making a list of all the potential punishments she could think of. Maybe walking around 'The Lair' wearing a pink tutu wasn't such a bad idea…

"Oh, you have no idea what you just started." she smirked as an influx of ideas flooded her brain. "I can be pretty intense."

But Freddie didn't faze. He didn't back down. Whatever the hell had come over him, stupidity, bravery, or simply fate casting its magic to bring them together, Fred Weasley knew he had to meet her challenge. And as he stared right into her stormy eyes, he whispered; "Show me."

And so the game started with Fred letting Lizl break. Smirking, she began the game, hitting ball after ball. Her streak of success seemed never ending, she was sure Fred was going to lose. But the boy wasn't just looking at the pool table. He was looking at the girl, studying her. Until he realised her secret.

When Lizl's turn came once again, the young girl bent over, angling herself in order to hit her final ball. But somehow, all she could see was the boy. He was once again, staring at her, straight though her eyes, making the girl feel so vulnerable when she was used to being in control. He came to stand beside her, matching her stance over the table as she gently blew the hair our of her face.

He kept looking at her with that stupid smile of his, and those eyes that held so much purity that Lizl's heart started to speed up. Heat rushed to her face as her hands started sweating. 'What is with that fucking look?' she thought as she tried to brush the feeling of uneasiness off. But when the Weasley boy reached to tuck a strand of her behind her ear, she finally slipped.

The loud smack of the pool stick on the table seemed to be the only thing Lizl could hear as she tried to process her situation. It wasn't that affection scared her, or that she had been through something horrible that made her fear human contact. But the way he looked at her, and the way he touched only a lock of her hair had her frustrated to no end.

Because Lizl understood the dark and cold. But Fred Weasley's warm heart full of light was something that felt foreign. Maybe even undeserved.

"What are you doing?" she snapped, furious that he had destroyed her winning streak.

"Nothing." the ginger replied, raising his arms as a sign of good intentions before his face broke into a smirk fit for a mischief king. "Well, not nothing. I was actually winning."

"You asshole!" exclaimed the girl. But she wasn't mad. Quite the opposite exactly. It was the first time in a long time someone had tricked her like that and she simply couldn't be mad at the boy in front of her when he was looking at her with those warm brown eyes of his. "How did you do that?"

"Years and years of practice." smirked Fred. "And noticing that you stick your tongue out whenever you're using magic to move the balls. All I had to do was distract you long enough for your little trick to malfunction."

Fred watched as Lizl's eyes widened in recognition. In the beginning, it was her beauty and the way she moved that had Fred staring desperately. But it was how she acted that had him hooked. She was sneaky, probably as sneaky as him. And even though Elizabeth Black was not a woman of mischief and pranks, she would often sneak in a little trick, and Fred would watch as she giggled to herself whenever her friends would trip over or have slime dumped on their faces. It was then that Fred Weasley decided he wanted that girl in his life. As long as she would have him.

So as she kept looking at him, her cheeks flushed and her smile wide, he took another risky step closer and raised his hand upon her cheek, stroking his knuckles softly along her jaw, trying to memorise every part of her face. Because a girl like Elizabeth Black were one in a million. Hell, to Fred Weasley, it felt like it was only her in the entire universe. "And I stare because you're beautiful. I pay attention." he whispered and for the first time in a long time, those walls Lizl had built started cracking, and little Lizzie was staring at Freddie, a vulnerable look in her stormy eyes.

"Why are you here?" she whispered, her voice cracking, as if opening herself up was physically hurting her.

"I like the place. Made a couple of friends." he smiled softly as he watched Lizzie's forehead wrinkle in thought before she asked again.

"No. Why are you here tonight? With Potter and his friends."

Fred could see how this conversation was somehow aching her. Her face was flushed, her hands stood limb, unable to make even the smallest of movements. So he slowly reached and took her right hand in his, softly grazing her ringed fingers.

"We're looking for someone."

"Who?" she asked, a desperate look in her eyes as she tried to decipher the actions of the man in front of her.

"You." he whispered, as his fingers brushed the Black family ring. And Lizl new; there was indeed post on Sundays.

But before she could answer back, her face turned emotionless and her eyes transformed. The dark of her pupils seemed to disappear and in just two seconds, all Fred could see was grey.

He was half a second away from freaking out, when the grey cloud disappeared, and Lizl stared back at him in shock.

"Shit." she cursed under her breath, ripping her hand away from his hold. "You know where the bakery is?" she asked, and Fred could swear he saw the wheels turning in that beautiful brain of hers. "By the small square with the fountain?"

"Yes, it's right next to thrift shop." he assured quickly. "Why?"

"Take your brother and Harry's friends and hide there." she ordered, her voice rushed as Fred started hearing yells from outside the pub. "Someone will go get you. I know this is impossible to ask, but trust me."

And so Fred decided to risk another moment with the girl. He decided to ignore the screams and yells that seemed to be getting closer and closer. Because it was worth getting hit by a curse if it meant that he'd make the girl smile again. He was a fool. A fool that wanted to do what to everyone seemed impossible. So with one final mischievous look, he stepped closer, his lips grazing the girl's ears as he spoke words that he believed with his entire heart as long as she was there…

_"Anything's possible, love."_

Fred chuckled at Lizl's puzzled face, before turning around and grabbing the golden trio and his twin — who had returned and joined them at their table. Together, they all headed out the back door as the locals in the pub, one by one, raised their wands preparing for the intruders.

With one loud thump, the door of 'The Wench' was bust open, and Death Eaters started storming in. The were rabid, throwing curses left and right, frantically searching for the boy with the lightning scar.

They thought they were winning, and the girl smirked at the sight. Because in the midst of chaos, she always thrived. Pursing her lips together, a low whistle escaped her, a tune the Ministry had grown to fear. Because everyone shall learn that you do not touch Elizabeth Black's home — one way or another.

It took only two seconds for Liam and his team to bust through 'The Wench'. Expert duellers, each with their own special talents, they set the invaders straight.

And one by one, dark hood by dark hood, the death eaters fell. Some apparating away, others running outside in fear.

And when Liam nodded, Lizl knew he had it handled. So she stepped backwards, becoming one with the dark, one with the shadows as she expertly manoeuvred herself behind a trap door.

Lizl ran as fast as her feet would carry her. On the streets, people were running wild, screaming when coming to face with the figures in the black hoods. She ran and she ran, dodging people left and right before she found who she was searching for.

'Of course…' she scoffed silently as spotted 'The Chosen One' trying to fight off Death Eaters instead of hiding as she instructed Fred. Thankfully, before the young wizard could be spotted by Voldemort's followers, Lizl grabbed his arm and dragged him with her behind another trap door, thanking her adoptive mother for building 'The Lair' like a maze.

As the door closed behind them, darkness overtook the two wizards, and Lizl was quick to shove the boy against the wall. Her arm on his throat, her want pointing at his face.

"What's going on?" asked a frantic Harry. "Who are you?"

"I'm the girl you're looking for. Now shut up and let me save you." she growled and released the boy, handing him his want back in the process.

"No. My friends are inside!"

"That would put them in even more danger." Lizl explained, her face forming into its usual indifferent state. "My people can handle this, your friends will be fine. Now shut up if you want to know who you're really talking to." she smirked, pointing at Harry's jacket pocket, where the letter was safely tucked inside. Harry's brows scrunched in confusion. How did she know? Was she really the one he's been looking for?

The girl softly whispered the word 'Lumos' as she brought the corridor to life. She motioned for the boy to follow, but Harry stuck his ground. He wasn't going anywhere until his questions were answered.

"Who are you?" he asked, and watched as a wicked smile formed on the girls lips, dangerously similar to a witch he regretted knowing.

"Sirius Black's daughter." she answered, and Harry was left numb.

● ♛ ●


	6. Sins of The Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Her Name Is Explained

Harry had lost count of the turns he had made, following the young witch. Lizl had been running through the maze-like corridors of 'The lair' for a good 15 minutes, changing their route constantly, thought she never seemed lost.

_Could she really be Sirius' daughter? No. That was impossible. Sirius never had a child. Where was she taking him? Could he trust her?_

"Okay, listen up Chosen One; I will explain everything to you, but you need to shut up!" growled the girl, and Harry realised he'd been voicing his thoughts out loud.

"Where are you taking me?" he demanded, stopping right in his tracks as Lizl's head wiped around to face him.

"Where do you think?" she questioned. "I'm taking you to my house! Or do you prefer talking about your godfather's illegitimate child in a mouldy dark corridor?" she sneered as she watched as Harry's mouth shut. "That's what I thought."

After a couple of more turns, the pair reached a dead end. Without wasting any more time to explain herself, Lizl raised her wavy wand and whispered words that Harry could've sworn he never heard in any of his Charms classes. The incantation though seemed to work, as the stone wall started breaking down, revealing the entrance to a magic shop.

Lizl was quick to leave the maze, entering the shop with Harry following right after. As he scanned his surroundings, he found himself mesmerised by the dozens of different magical artefacts. From Grindylow's in a tank, to potion vials and herbs hanging from the ceiling, to magical mirrors and compasses that didn't point north.

"Hello Harry." came a voice from the far end of the shop. It was an older woman — probably around McGonagall's age. She was wearing a pair of midnight blue robes and on top of her right shoulder, a turquoise pashmina with intricate bird designs. Her hair was white and chopped short, giving her a more menacing look. Her eyes were neutral, her expression unreadable. What had he gotten himself into again?

"Well, I know you're new here but we do not raise our wands within the walls of this shop. Now, please sit down." ordered the old witch as she pointed to Harry's raised hand.

The young wizard lowered his wand, but decided to stay put.

"I'd rather stand." said Harry, but the older witch wouldn't have it.

"Sit." she demanded, and Harry felt a chill go down his spine. Her voice oozed authority. And as if he had no control of his limbs, he sat down by a potions table.

Harry watched with peculiar eyes as the young girl who claimed to be his godfather's daughter exited the room, leaving him alone with the older witch. Mimicking his movements, she moved to sit on the either side of the table.

"Who are you?" asked Harry.

"Who do _you_ think I am young Potter?" the witch deadpanned, and it finally clicked.

"You're Margaret Thibault."

"And you're not as stupid as you look." smirked the witch as she watched Harry's mouth open in shock. "Close your mouth sweetheart, you'll catch flies." she hummed as the Lizl entered the room, a tray at hand with a pot and two cups of tea. "Oh, thank you darling. Tea?" asked Maggie, motioning towards the boy sitting across from her.

"This is where you say 'Yes, thank you' to the scary witch." smirked Lizl as she threw Harry a glare before taking her place next to Maggie's chair.

"It's okay. We should all be a little sceptical when a stranger offers us tea." the Thibault witch smiled, but Harry felt that she was anything but friendly.

"Forgive me, Ms Thibault, but I didn't come here for tea."

"No, you were dragged here." Lizl deadpanned with a snort, but Maggie was quick to silence her child with just one look.

"You came here to deliver something to my daughter." she explained, and Harry's face scrunched up in confusion.

"Your daughter?"

"Adoptive daughter of course. Her biological mother unfortunately passed away many years ago." she corrected quickly and watched as Harry's eyes glanced briefly at his jacket pocket. "So, do you have it?"

"Have what?" asked Harry, failing at convincing the witch that he didn't know what she was talking about,

"The envelope. For Rowena's sake, I didn't remember Gryffindor's being this slow." Maggie huffed as Lizl let out a soft giggle from beside her mother.

"How do I know it's meant for _her_?"

"See? He has his bright moments." snickered Lizl.

"This I'll explain with a small story." explained Maggie as she set down her cup. Harry watched her carefully before he got distracted by the same mind numbing whistling tune he had heard back at 'The Wench', right before the Death Eaters stormed in. "Oh, don't worry, that sound only means that our people took care of the Death Eaters. Your friends should be escorted here soon." the old witch waved off as if it was nothing unusual.

"Took care?"

"Don't ask questions whose answers you don't wish to know." chastised Lizl, but Harry had had enough of their little performance. He wanted answers.

"Are you really Sirius' daughter?" he asked, not bothering to figure out whether that was a question he truly wanted answered.

"Short answer; Yes."

Harry's expression turned into one of shock once again as he tried to will himself to open up to the possibility of Sirius having a child. _How could that even be possible? Wouldn't he have known?_

"Seventeen years ago, a very pregnant woman knocked on my doorstep, asking for protection. I had been close friends with her father during our time in Hogwarts so I decided to take the risk and protect her with my life." explained Maggie as Harry tried to piece together the young girl's story.

"Why was it such a risk?"

"Death Eaters were searching her. Her brother, August, had been a rather large inconvenience to them."

"Inconvenience?" asked Harry, but it was the young girl that would answer this time.

"He was the first known wizard to successfully infiltrate Voldemort's forces." she explained. "He spent weeks with them. He believed that Voldemort had one final card up his sleeve. Some kind of weapon to bring the world to its knees."

"Your uncle was August Lévesque. You're Athena's daughter." Harry suddenly realised. Everyone in the wizarding world knew of August Lévesque's insane theories about Voldemort. He had infiltrated his forces, pretending to be a Death Eater, but he was outed before he could offer any real inside information. "Sorry…" mumbled the boy when he say the girl's pained expression. "Did he? Did Voldemort have a secret weapon?"

"Nobody knows." continued Lizl. "August was killed not long after the world learned where his allegiance lied. But before they found him, they wanted to torture him. So they went for his sister. For weeks my mother hid in the shadows, moving form place to place. Until she realised she was pregnant."

When the girl finished, it was time for Maggie to continue with the story.

"Many words have been spoken about the Levesque family, but one thing was certain; the woman that knocked on my door was ready to die for her child. So I gave her a home, and a place to raise her little girl. Athena never spoke about her daughter's father, only that she wished that her child didn't inherit his recklessness — thought _that_ is yet to be proven." mused the witch as she threw a suggestive glare over at her adoptive daughter.

"How do you know that it's Sirius then?" asked Harry, still nowhere near believing the absurd story the two witches were presenting him.

"Athena fell ill about eleven years ago. Her health deteriorated quickly, and healers weren't able to do much. Before she died though, she told me who Elizabeth's father was."

"Why should I believe you?" argued the boy, but Lizl wasn't anywhere near as patient as her mother.

"Because my life's story is not one I give out to just anyone." she hissed. "Do I look like some attention whore trying to get on 'The Daily Prophet' by being the murderer's daughter?"

"Sirius wasn't a murderer." Harry countered, anger boiling his blood as he thought of his godfather being wrongfully convicted for twelve long years.

"You don't know what he did." Lizl countered. "He fought in a war, and so are we now. My full name is Elizabeth Carina Black; E.C.B. So do us all a favour and end this evening by delivering my letter." she huffed with a roll of her eyes.

"How do you know what he did? You didn't even know him."

"Oh, I knew him plenty." she smirked. It was as if she was enjoying Harry's growing anger. "I spent more time with him than you probably did."

"What? No! I don't believe you." growled Harry as he stood up from his char. "Sirius never had a daughter. If he had one he would've told me!"

"Sit down boy." growled the older witch, but Harry's fury was taking over him.

"No! You take me here, after doing Merlin knows what to the Death Eaters when your little crew out there isn't much different than them. You say you're protecting your people, then why does the entire wizarding world fear you? How do you expect me to trust you enough to believe your words when every move you do, and every word you say is rehearsed? It's like you're performing. If you really are a Black, with the way you're acting you're more like…"

His rant was quickly cut short as Lizl shoved him against the nearest wall , her arm pushing on his windpipe, not even bothering with her wand.

"Like who Harry?" she sneered. "Say it. Say my aunt's name. Say the name of a woman that tortured people without mercy, the woman who killed my father in cold blood, the first woman to kiss Voldemort's feet. Say the name of the woman you're comparing me to." she hissed and Harry's eyes widened as he realised what he'd done.

"I'm sorry." he whispered. 

"Sorry doesn't cut it!" she hissed, but their little confrontation was interrupted by the shop door bursting open.

"Honey, we're home!" beamed Liam as he burst through the shop doors, the twins, Ron and Hermione following right after him. Lizl immediately let Harry go, but didn't step back. Instead, she kept on staring him down. If looks could kill, that boy would be six feet under. "Did we interrupt something?"

Maggie was about to speak before Lizl straightened up and prevented her mother from explaining.

"No. It's okay Maggie." she claimed. "I'll get what is mine eventually. Harry was just leaving. And quickly, if you want my advice."

Even if Harry wanted to say something, he kept his mouth shut. Motioning quickly to his friends that they should get the hell out of that place.

"Well, okay…" hummed Liam dramatically. "It was nice talking to you H." he winked at Hermione who clearly was not comfortable with the attention he was giving her. "Make sure to take some time for little Liam when we go back to Hogwarts this year!" he smirked. "Nice meeting you Don."

"It's Ron." grumbled the ginger in annoyance.

"Eh, potato-potato."

"Let's go guys. We're done here." said Harry before making his way out the door, the feeling of uneasiness never leaving him. He even bumped into Fred Weasley while trying to exit the store. 

"Oops, sorry Harry." muttered the ginger, reaching to fix his friend's jacket.

● ♛ ●

The sound of wood splintering and objects crashing filled the magic store as Lizl released her pent up anger on the walls of her home. Throwing curses left and right, the store was holding on its hinges, and the girl wasn't even remotely calmed down.

"Elizabeth!" scolded Margaret. "Didn't I teach you to not take your anger on the walls? Furniture can be replaced, but not if the roof collapses on our heads!" she huffed, but her daughter still wasn't ready to forgive and forget.

"Did you see the way he looked at me?" she questioned as her mother's eyes filled with concern. It was a rare occasion that Elizabeth Black showed pain over what someone else thought of her. "What he said? How he compared me to that… that leech!" she screeched as the glass windows cracked as her anger was released.

"Not everyone knows how to not let their emotions cloud their judgement." Margaret reminded her child as she raised her hands to her daughter's distraught face.

Her eyes were bloodshot and tired as her hands fell limb by her sides.

"But how am I supposed to go outside of this place if everyone looks at me like I'm some… some monster?!" she argued as a tear escaped her eyes.

"No one is looking at you like that." Maggie assured her child as she wiped her flushed cheeks with her thumbs.

"No one in _here_. But out there, people's minds are so closed off they can't accept anything other than what they're used to." huffed Lizl as she pried her mother's hands off her face. "How do you think the world would react if they find out Sheila's a werewolf? Or when they learn that Zara was raised by vampires? That our house-elves are getting paid? Why do we even try to change people's minds?"

She was tired. She hadn't even began her journey to this world and Lizl was tired. Tired of people judging her by her clothes, or the way she walked, or by her last name. It was a blessing and a curse to live in a world where names mattered more than people. Where games where was important than living. Lizl was tired of the game. But she was meant to play it.

Maggie would never admit it, but her heart broke whenever she saw her daughter like that. She was blessed with raising one of the strongest young women, and yet at moments like these she felt as if she failed. Failed as a mother to Lizl, and as a friend to Athena. What would Elizabeth's mom say if she saw her daughter crying like that?

"Because even the smallest act of kindness can outshine any evil." Maggie whispered softly, her eyes showing nothing but love. "Because there's hope. Hope that one day all the residents of 'The Lair' could live with the rest of the magical world. Because even though you love this place, you crave the unknown."

And so Lizl cried. She cried in her mother's arms because she was right again. Because Lizl dreamed of adventure, and of worlds yet to be discovered. Because perhaps Elizabeth Black was insane enough to actually change the course of history.

"I don't want to spend the rest of my life in here mom. I want to travel. Je veux voir le monde maman." she cried as her mother wrapped her hands around her. Her grip so tight — as if she was pouring all her love in one single embrace.

"Je sais. I'd never stop you. No one can stop you." the witch stressed, kissing her daughter's forehead.

Lizl sniffled as she wiped her tear-stained cheeks. A smile forming on her face, she raised her head high and said; "No one dares to stop Elizabeth Black." she smirked and Maggie chuckled.

"That's right." her mother assured. "No one. You'll hex them to oblivion before they'd get a shot." the old witch smirked, proud of her daughter.

They stayed in each other's embrace for Godrick knows how long. They knew their paths would soon be forced to part, and they needed to spend as much time together as they could.

"Mom?" Lizl asked as she raised her head, untangling herself from her mother's arms. "How am I supposed to go out there and try to change things?" she asked, and Maggie didn't see Elizabeth Black, she saw little Lizzie once more.

"With your head held high."

● ♛ ●

Ever since she remembered herself, Lizl always loved gazing at the stars. Not in a sappy romantic way — she would die before admitting she liked anything even remotely related to cheesy romance. No. Lizl loved getting lost in the stories behind the stars. Maybe it was the Black in her — since her father's family had an obsession with naming their members after stars — or maybe it was because she's always longed to escape. Escape into a world where the hero was the kid with the tough upbringing. In a world where humans made their own destiny.

So when little Lizzie discovered that the roofs of Maggie's apartment building provided the optimal star gazing spot, she started spending her nights there. And that eventful night, there she was once more. Sitting on the brick roof, her arms hugging her knees, Lizl gazed at the stars.

She gazed at Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky, and wondered if her father was watching her from above. She gazed at Orion, and thought of how her grandfather would have reacted to the news of her birth. Finally, she gazed at the Carina constellation, and thought of her life and future. There were so many things she wanted to do, so many adventures to experience. And yet she felt a heavy load constantly keeping her down. There was a war, and she wanted to fight. But she didn't know how…

Her frown softly transformed in a small smile when she heard the footsteps of another person joining her in her little sanctuary.

"I know you're there Weasley." she smirked and a disappointed groan left he boy behind her.

"Now, how did you know that?" 

And there he was, Fred Weasley, in all his ginger glory, staring at her with those warm chocolate eyes, slowly melting the ice in her heart.

"You've proven that you're not as dum as the average man out there." she hummed, gesturing for the boy to sit beside her. "So, I pay attention." said Lizl, and Fred's smile immediately widened.

Lizl giggled as she saw the goofy smile on the Weasley boy's face. It was so pure, and so full of light. It was almost comical how just one word from her can cause so many wonderful feelings. Lizl had never felt that kind of warmth before, and it was strange. A good kind of strange.

She didn't realise she had spend a good minute staring at the boy's face, noticing the tiny mole on his neck, the small scar by his left ear, and the tiny wrinkles starting to form on his face — a definite byproduct of laughing all the time.

"Now look who's been staring at whom?" smirked Fred, effectively breaking the girl out of her haze. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me." he laughed and watched as Lizl's cheeks turned a deep red.

"You're so full of yourself." she snorted as she pulled out a cigarette from her jacket pocket and lit it up, the smoke filling her lungs as she tried to numb her worries.

"Nope. Just being honest." smirked Fred as Lizl smacked his arm playfully. "That one's going to kill you, you know." he said, motioning towards the cigarette between her lips.

Lizl shook her head and reached for the packet in her pocket. Fred's eyes narrowed in curiosity as the girl opened the packet and offered it to him. With a chuckle of his own, Fred took out a cigarette and lit it up with his wand, winking at Lizl as he blew the smoke in the night sky.

"You're impossible." she muttered.

"Nah, just a fool on a roof with a girl." he hummed before turning to stare at the stars. "So… you come here often?"

It was a terrible line, that much was a given, but it was Lizl's laughter that ended up echoing through the streets of 'The Lair'. Perhaps she was tired, or maybe she was worn out from the crying and frustration; but Lizl felt weirdly light in the presence of the prankster.

"Yeah… I do." She answered honestly. "It's not the best view but from here I can see Jonathan's house."

"Jonathan?" said Fred, an eyebrow raising in question.

"He's my best friend." explained the girl as she rubbed her arms to keep warm. "He's the closest thing I have to a little brother. We used to sneak out together when we were younger. My mom and I stayed at the apartment right next to his. When I moved with Maggie, we'd spend every night sending messages from our spots on the roofs. I didn't feel so alone that way." she trailed off and Fred Weasley could swear he could give up his life to get a glimpse of Elizabeth Black's heart.

"I lived in a house with five brothers and a sister. I was never alone." hummed Fred, but Lizl kept staring at him pointedly. "What?"

"You're not going to say that it was a nightmare and some alone time would be good?" she asked.

"Nah. Having a big family's great. You never feel alone." he explained with a smile. "Even when you're sitting on a roof in downtown London with your family miles away."

"When I was younger, I used to wish I had that." whispered Lizl as Fred snorted.

"For a woman as smart as you, you have your dumb moments."

"Hey!" she protested, smacking Fred's shoulder playfully.

"You're not alone." he stressed, and somehow his words became so much more meaningful to Lizl. "You have a crazy-ass family of your own. Liam, Caitlin… you bestie Jonathan." he grumbled when her best friends name came out of his mouth, causing Lizl to break out in laughter once more.

"Now don't go jealous on me Freddie." she hummed, throwing the boy that infamous smirk of hers that had left men mesmerised.

"I wasn't jealous." defended the Weasley boy as he tried to will the blush from his cheeks to go away.

Lizl kept laughing the more he watched him squirm in his spot. His ginger hair falling in front of his eyes. For a sneaky prankster, he was pure. As pure as they got.

"For a man as smart as you, you have your dumb moments." Lizl mused as the pair fell into a comfortable silence.

While Lizl was rather comfortable when saying nothing, she found it rather amusing how the boy next to her couldn't stand another second of not talking. He was used to a little chaos. And as annoying as Lizl found that trait, she couldn't be mad at him.

"You should have seen your boy Liam today." informed Fred as Lizl's ears perked in the mention of her friend.

"Oh, shit. What did he do?"

"Kept sweet-talking Hermione." smirked Fred. "Drove my brother mad."

"Now _that_ , I would've loved to see." chuckled Lizl before dropping her gaze to her feet. "You can give it to me now." she whispered, motioning to Fred's jacket. The boy quickly understood what she was referring to, and reached for his inside pocket. The infamous envelope, Sirius Black's final wish was finally where it belonged, in his daughter's arms. "You want to see it?" Lizl asked as she opened the envelope with such care, you'd think it was made of glass.

"Not if you don't want me to." replied Fred, and that made the girl smile even more.

Lizl took one last drag from her cigarette and put it out on the roof beside her. Reaching for the envelope's contents, she pulled out a piece of paper and showed it to him.

"It's my birth certificate." she explained while Fred's eyes scanned the document. "In his will, Sirius' final request was for me to officially be his daughter." she explained, pointing at the bottom of the page where the father's signature laid, finally there after seventeen years.

"Why didn't he leave the house to you? You are a Black after all." inquired Fred.

"What I've realised through changing last names and not knowing where I'm from; is that who you are, it's all within you. Family crests and silver goblets and manors don't matter. It's the people that make the name. Not the other way around." Lizl explained softly as she absent-mindedly span the Black family ring on her finger.

"Still. Some money could help. Maybe fix this dingy roof." chuckled Fred as he banged on Maggie's roof repeatedly, every brick shaking as a side-effect. It really was a crappy roof.

"Has money made an actual difference in your life?"

"Nah." he replied with a shake of his head. "I can afford to by mum presents but… It has always been more about the laughter than anything else. Nothing's truly changed."

"See? I don't want his money. I'd rather make my own. All I need is my name." announced the girl as she tucked the birth certificate in her pocket.

"Why?"

Lizl sighed softly before turning to face the boy's eyes. "Because we live in a world where a name means more than anything else. Maybe even more than money." she breathed and turned her gaze back to the stars, back to Sirius.

"You can do it." Fred whispered as he turned to look at her. He almost felt trapped when he was around her. She had this energy that made him want — _need_ — more.

"Do what?" she questioned, her grey eyes meeting his own.

"Whatever you're planning." he hummed. "Bring the noble house of Black back to its former glory. Rewrite the rules." he explained and Lizl found herself smiling like a complete goof.

"You've been awfully supportive Fred Weasley. How do you know world domination isn't in my plans?" she smirked.

"Well, I wouldn't cross it out." Fred assured before continuing, a smirk of his own gracing his lips. "Plus, being dominated by you would be the icing on the cake." he chuckled but Lizl didn't yelp or blush. Instead, she just chuckled softly and twisted her body around to face him.

She leaned in closer, her face merely an inch away from his. A teasing smirk formed on her lips, as her eyes scanned his stunned face. He couldn't move. He rarely felt nervous, yet at that moment, his limbs just would not comply.

Lizl inched even closer, her mouth by his ear. "Don't tickle a sleeping dragon Weasley…" she whispered in the midnight sky, her lips brushing his ear. Lizl chuckled when she felt his shudder underneath her touch, visibly gulping at her words.

The witch chuckled as she watched the boy look at her in pure shock. He didn't even notice when she reached out and stole the cigarette from his hand, returning it to her lips.

_God she was intoxicating. And Fred couldn't get enough._

Before Lizl could fall asleep that night, resting comfortable against Fred Weasley's shoulder, she heard a faint whisper. A promise made under the night sky, with her finally watching form above…

"You're not alone. Not as long as I can do something about it."

● ♛ ●

While Freddie and Lizzie were busy staring at each others eyes, neither of them noticed the small piece of parchment that fell out of her father's envelope…

_Ms Elizabeth Carina Black,_

_I do hope this letter finds you at the correct time, thought I have faith that you shall retrieve it yourself if the situation takes a different turn. I would like to invite you to a meeting in my office on Monday morning, in order to discuss the offer I had made your mother six years ago._

_Regards,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

● ♛ ●


	7. An Offer She Can't Refuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When She Visits Her Father's Home

The green eyed boy had pretty much teared the entire room down, by the time his two best friends showed up to check on him. The small two bed sanctuary, that once belonged to the Weasley twins as children, had been turned upside down as Harry searched frantically for that forsaken piece of paper, that had managed to put a rather big dent in his summer.

"What do you mean you've lost the envelope, Harry?" asked Hermione as she started picking up the pillows that had landed on the floor, swiftly returning them to their original spots on the beds.

"I mean, I can't find it, Hermione. I swear, it was right here in my jacket pocket, and now it's gone!" 

"Did you put it somewhere else after we came back, perhaps? Or maybe you lost it on the way home?" she suggested, but the Harry only shook his head.

"No. Nothing happened. I was careful. We were leaving 'The Lair' when…"

Ron's brows furrowed as his friends words were cut short. Harry's emerald eyes lit up in realisation as he looked over at his best friend, the ghost of the previous night's memories dancing in his eyes as he remembered what had happened.

"What? Did you lose it?" asked Hermione.

"What's wrong, mate?" added Ron, a worried look on his face.

Harry only huffed and stomped out of the small room, his friends following suit as the group of three descended the stairs of the Burrow.

"Are Fred and George still here?" asked Harry, thoughts swirling in his head as he hoped the twins hadn't departed yet.

"They're still downstairs. They're about to leave though. Mum baked them muffins." explained Ron, the stairs creaking as the trio increased their speed.

"What's going on, Harry? Harry!" exclaimed Hermione, effectively putting a stop in Harry's stomping as he turned to face his friends.

"The last time I had the envelope in my pocket was when we were leaving Margaret Thibault's shop. As we were leaving, Fred bumped into me."

Ron chuckled in disbelief. _Why would Fred steal the envelope? What could he possibly have to gain by taking it?_

"Are you joking? My brother couldn't have stolen it. Is he bloody mental?"

Harry barely spared another look at his companions as he descended the last flight of stairs, releasing a deep breath as he spotted the man he was looking for.

"Fred." he stated, and the older Weasley twin turned around to face him, the usual mischievous grin on his lips.

"Hello Harry, fancy a fresh muffin?" he asked, his eyes motioning the to big bag of freshly baked muffins — their aroma filling the small homey kitchen.

Harry shook his head quickly as he released a stress filled breath. "Did you take the envelope from my jacket yesterday?"

Of all the weird adventures and the trouble the raven boy had been through in his sixteen years of life, nothing really had prepared him for the completely carefree, almost gleeful answer he got from his red headed friend.

"Of course I did." smiled Fred, his shoulders shrugging as he took a bite from one of the muffins in his basket.

"Wh… What?" asked a baffled Harry, his brain barely comprehending the relaxed demeanour of the boy in front of him. "Why?"

"Because it didn't belong to you." explained Fred, plain and simple, almost chuckling as Harry struggled to form a response.

"How… How could you do that?"

Fred dropped the muffin back to the basket in his hand, his grin fading, only to be replaced with a small smile as he stepped closer to the raven haired boy. "Because both Dumbledore and Sirius wanted that envelope to reach the hands of the girl. They never intended for you to keep it." he calmly explained, winking for added effect as he made his way outside. "Reading other people's mail is a crime, you know. See ya later lads."

And with a final wave, he was out the door.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" exclaimed a dumbfounded Ron as he mimicked his best friends frozen posture.

Hermione tilted her head and with an almost pain filled expression broke the silence in the small kitchen.

"Well, he _technically_ wasn't wrong."

●♛●

Lizl zipped the small duffle bag open, carefully folding her clothes and placing them inside as neatly as possible. Just a change of clothes, some pyjamas, her notebook, and a few other personal items were carefully stored inside the small bag on her bed.

Liam smirked as he entered his friend's bedroom. Lizl might have lived in the epitome of outlaw wizarding folk, but she had the place organised to the very last cobblestone on the streets. It was rather funny watching her always line things up, as if her fingers were itching to make sure nothing looked out of place. From her creaseless clothes — despite running around all day in the dirt — to her bookshelf organised by genre and author, it was clear that Elizabeth Black didn't belong in the small dingy neighbourhood. In Liam's eyes, the girl deserved a castle of her own.

If the blond was honest, he could hardly remember his life before he new Lizl. From the moment they met when they were eleven years old — running around the streets of 'The Lair' — they had both decided to be partners in crime. They quickly became two peas in a pot.

Though their relationship wasn't like the brother and sister bond she had with Jonathan, Liam found something in Lizl he had never experienced prior to their meeting — acceptance. Most of the times, it almost felt like he was looking in a mirror. Lizl was one of the few people that understood him. From his practical way of thinking, to his goal driven personality, down to his protectiveness over his family; in Lizl he had found his exact match.

But they would never work, he knew. They were too alike. _Right?_ Liam could barely remember a girl's name, and the only long term relationship Lizl had ever had was with Sheila, the — according to Caitlin's wiseass words — _"glorified booty call"._

So Liam pushed down the flutter in his stomach when he'd talk to her. He'd shush his feelings when would see her smile, or when he would grace him with one of the most priceless sounds he had ever heard — her laugh. He ignored the little voice in him that told him he wanted her. Because if he was honest with himself, he'd admit that for Lizl to truly be happy, there was only one thing he could do; stay by her side. He'd remain her right hand man, and he'd back her up against anyone. Because even though he was never an outstanding student, Liam Rosier would bet everything he had that Elizabeth Black would be one of the witches to shape the world.

And the blond boy, like always, ran a hand through his hair, and pulled off that infamous smirk of his as he entered his friend's room.

"You're packing?" he inquired teasingly, resting his body on the small old couch on the other side of the room, his feet resting on the arm rest. "What is this? A vacay in Hogwarts in the middle of summer?"

Lizl snorted as she turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised as her friend spoke a language they both knew fairly well…

"Do you think you could tone down the sarcasm a little bit?"

"Never baby. It's one of the things that make me this awesome." replied the blond, raising his arms and resting them behind his head, the smirk never leaving his lips. "My witty humour, my smouldering good looks and my undoubted charisma."

"I think I'm going to gag from all the charisma." snorted Lizl while Liam chuckled back at her words.

"That's what _she_ said." he retorted and watched as the girl shook her head, laughing quietly under her breath.

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"That you did." he agreed, standing up to ease his curiosity by walking around her room. "So, why the packing?"

Lizl shrugged, reaching for a small, leather bound book on the bottom shelf and tucking it carefully in one of the smaller pockets of the bag.

"I figured I'd spend the night at Hogsmeade; take a walk down the streets, drink Madam Rosmerta's infamous firewhiskey…"

"Seriously Liz? An actual vacay? I don't believe it." challenged Liam while Lizl rolled her eyes at him, swatting his hand and ripping away the small stress ball he had grabbed while snooping around.

"There's a first time for everything." she argued, but her eyes quickly focused on the boy beside her eying a rather skimpy pair of underwear that had fallen on the floor.

"Ooh, where did you steal these from?" he smirked, holding the small piece of cloth with his pointer finger.

Lizl didn't even spare him a second glance before focusing on the small stress ball in her hands. Before Liam had any time to duck, she'd willed the small blue object to fly straight to his head, effectively shutting him up.

"Ouch! Hey! No telekinesis!" He objected, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead. "You know I bloody hate that shit."

"Really? I must've forgotten." Lizl smirked teasingly, putting the pair of underwear in the duffle bag and zipping it shut.

Liam raised his hands in surrender and took a couple of steps backwards, once again resting on the old leather couch. "Fine. No more pestering about Hogsmeade. By the way, it's a total yes on the knickers."

"You're tiptoeing a very fine line my friend. Careful before I black-list you." chuckled Lizl, placing the duffle bag on the floor and turning to face her friend. "Was there a reason for the visit, or didyou just come here to offer commentary?"

Liam's demeanour quickly changed from a filled with sexual innuendo frat boy, to the soldier she knew too well.

"Of course there was boss. The commentary was just the cherry on top of the cake." he offered, standing up in alert, his hands folding in front of his chest.

Lizl mimicked his posture, straightening her spine and motioning for him to continue.

"The Death Eaters that showed up yesterday; it seems that they didn't come here for the 'Chosen One'. In fact, I'm pretty sure they had no idea he was at the 'Wench'. Based on their skills and obvious lack of organisation, I can confidently say that we do not have a rat within the grounds — not a good one at least. My best guess, the attackers were just low-level thugs send to wreck a little havoc."

The girl nodded as she contemplated on all the possible scenarios. In reality, Liam's words from the previous day kept echoing through her head. He had suggested to border "The Lair" completely — much like Hogwarts did — and monitor the entrances. But Lizl couldn't do that. Her heart ached at the thought of basically trapping people inside. The same exact people that had come to live in "Hestia's Lair" because they knew its doors would always be open; the same exact people who valued their individual freedom more than anyone else she had ever met. Voldemort had insulted her home, and she was getting more furious as the days passed.

"The narcissist wants us to know that he can enter the grounds any time…" she bit back, her teeth gritting as thoughts swirled around in her head. "Asshole…"

"In any case, Caitlin and I have our people ready. If you want us to border up, you just say the word." Liam offered, his eyes following the girl's, who seemed to be pretty invested in the small window overlooking the "Lair".

"Not yet." she stated, turning around, her grey eyes focusing on him. "You're heading east?"

"Yes. Mom's cooking lasagna." Liam added cheerfully, his body relaxing slightly.

"Can you drop by Jonathan's? I need you to tell him to ask around for anyone new walking around last night."

"You think the attack was a diversion." he deducted quickly, his brows raising in realisation.

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just paranoid. In any case, I need him to ask around. Can you do it?" asked Lizl, and Liam was more than happy to oblige.

"Sure thing." he assured. "Have a nice vacay."

Lizl snorted at his dig, shooing him off playfully. "Enjoy your lasagna."

●♛●

After packing all of her stuff, and ensuring she left the rest of her room as organised as always, Lizl grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Each step she took was calculated, following the same old rhythm as she climbed down the stairs to Margaret's shop, making a mental list of all the things she had to do.

"Leaving?" came a voice from the darkest corner of the store.

Lizl's eyes focused on her adoptive mother, sucking in a breath thinking about the inevitable conservation she was about to have.

"I didn't peg you for someone that stated the obvious." offered Lizl.

"It's an observation. Don't sass me darling."chastised Margaret, scanning her daughter's attire.

Lizl nodded quickly, her hand clutching her bag tightly as she thought of what she was going to say.

It wasn't a secret that Margaret Thibault didn't particularly like Albus Dumbledore — and the world was in shock. Of course, everyone always seems to forget that from time to time — special notice to the previous year, when "The Daily Prophet" kept claiming that the headmaster was a madman — people seem to share Margaret's dislike, depending on what the Ministry says. Lizl had always found that extremely hypocritical, and almost daft actually. Dumbledore was undoubtedly a brilliant mind and a wizard with great power — both magical, mental, and an incredible influence to the wizarding world — but the man was sitting on such a high pedestal. At least that was how Lizl always saw it. For more reasons that one…

"I have an appointment in about an hour." informed the girl, scanning over her mother's features.

"How are you going to 'Hogwarts'?" asked Margaret, stepping closer to her daughter, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Apparate to Hogsmeade and take it from there. I'll be staying the night over at Three Broomsticks."

The older witch only nodded and offered a tight lipped smile.

"Okay. Be careful. I'll see you tomorrow evening."

Lizl nodded in return, and started walking towards the exit.

_Does she want me to stop? Does she want me to not go? Is it the menopause again?_

_Oh fuck it._

Lizl huffed angrily at herself as she felt her body stopping, turning around and explaining herself. "I would be a fool to not meet him. He's Albus Dumbledore." she argued.

"I thought I taught you to not be impressed with names and reputations." stated Maggie, that judgemental eyebrow that the younger girl hated raising — taunting her patience.

"You also taught me to form my own opinions."

Maggie chuckled wholeheartedly at that.

"No. You were born that way. Ridiculously opinionated. When you were eight, you wrote down a menu with the foods you wanted me to cook. You refused to eat anything else. Stubborn little thing you were. Just like your father."

Lizl never acknowledged her words though. Anytime somebody mentioned Sirius, she simply shrugged it off and pretended they had never opened their mouth to begin with. Nobody had managed to get her to talk about her father, not even Jonathan.

"I'm going to head out now." the girl stated simply, nodding her head goodbye.

A look of worry took over Margaret's face for a moment, not entirely sure of her choice of words towards her child.

"You're right to meet with him." the older woman admitted with a huff. "I'm just not a fan. Grudges tend to get incredibly hard to let go of when you're my age."

Lizl shook her head and toyed with the rings on her fingers.

"I'll be back tomorrow for dinner."

"And I'll be here waiting with one of your pre-approved meals." Margaret smiled, reaching for her daughter and placing a kiss on her forehead. "Bon voyage, ma cherie."

"Merci mamman. Don't throw a party, lorsque je suis parti." teased Lizl.

"Oh, just go." chuckled Margaret, watching her daughter as she walked away and apparating miles away from her. "Stubborn girl… Just like _him_."

●♛●

Lizl groaned after her feet landed in the small wizarding village. Merlin only knew how much she hated that gut tearing feeling she experienced whenever she apparated somewhere.

Okay, the place wasn't nearly as terrible as she thought.

It was quite early in the morning, the chill still apparent in the air as the shops started to open, and the children of the village found themselves escaping their houses and off to live wild adventures in the outskirts of their home.

The raven haired girl stuck out like a sore thumb as she walked down the street. From her leather clad shoulders, to the dark jeans and heeled boots, she was a direct contrast to the earthy tones of morning Hogsmeade. But then again, when didn't she stick out?

Lizl was quick to make a bee line for her destination though. She needed to get that meeting over with so she could have some time to perhaps explore the place. She wasn't lying to Liam when she said that she actually looked forward to staying in the small village. All of her friends had visited more than a handful of times during their time in Hogwarts, and she felt terribly felt out. She craved the sweets from Honeydukes and her mischievous side itched to explore all that Zonko's had to offer. So the girl quickly walked towards The Three Broomsticks, her bag in hand, and pushed the door open, the small bell echoing through the store, alerting people of her presence.

Since it was entirely way too early, the small pub served as a breakfast spot. Since it was the middle of summer though, there were only just about half a dozen people, scattered around in different tables, munching on their breakfast before resuming with their daily routine.

Scanning the place quickly, Lizl headed for the bar, where she had spotted a curvy blond pouring drinks behind the bar. Even though Lizl assumed the barmaid was definitely at least in her fourties, she looked very beautiful, looking in control behind the bar.

"Good morning." the girl greeted with a smile, effectively gaining the attention of the blond woman. "Madam Rosmerta?"

The older woman gave her a warm smile and placed the glass she was holding on the counter. "The one and the same. You must be the young girl professor McGonagall said would be arriving. How are you, dear?"

"Good. Thank you. I'm Elizabeth."

Madame Rosmerta was quick to shake her hand and make her way to the other side of the counter, joining the younger girl. "Welcome to Hogsmeade Elizabeth. You're staying for the night, right?"

"Yes. I'll be leaving tomorrow evening though. I've never really had the chance to visit this place. Thought I'd take the opportunity and explore a little bit."

"Of course darling, don't you worry." assured the barmaid with a smile. "Did you not study in Hogwarts? I don't remember seeing you around — though after the years all these rascals look the same…"

Lizl only shook her head, chuckling softly under her breath. "No. I was homeschooled."

"Really? How come?"

The younger girl only shrugged in response. She honestly had no intention of sharing her life's story with a woman who — according to more than plenty of sources — was a huge fan of any gossip.

"Overprotective mother." she simply stated, and thankfully the pub owner seemed more than pleased with the answer.

"You're preaching to the choir darling, I'm in my fourties — yes fourties not fifties, don't hear what the rumour mill says — and my mother is still pestering me about every little thing. 'What is that dress that you're wearing?', 'You're really going out like that?', 'When are you going to find a nice husband and give me grandchildren?'. The woman doesn't even acknowledge the fact that I have the most successful business in all of Hogsmeade." she kept rambling as Lizl tried to hide her amusement at the sight.

But before Madam Rosmerta could continue with another story about her mother, Lizl cut her off.

"I'm going to be late for my appointment. So, if you wouldn't mind…?"

Madam Rosmerta's eyes lit up in realisation, most likely not wanting to get on McGonagall's bad side for keeping the girl in the pub for too long. "Oh, of course dear. Trevor! Get Elizabeth's bag upstairs please. Room 3." she instructed, and a scrawny young boy came rushing to help with Lizl's duffle bag. "Your room will be waiting for you when you get back. Just follow the north pathway and it'll lead you straight to the castle. Can't miss it."

"Thank you." Lizl nodded, giving her belongings to the boy and exiting the small pub.

She followed the north trail silently, the grand castle becoming bigger and bigger as she approached it.

_Okay, it was one fucking amazing castle…_

Lizl's curious mind was itching with excitement as she absorbed the huge masterpiece in front of her. She nearly tripped on her feet, while taking in the architecture of the place. From the giant towers, to the small gothic windows, down to the flower pots on the small balconies, Lizl was left in awe of the place. It all got much worse one she realised the numerous secrets the castle was hiding. If even Dumbledore himself had admitted in the past that he'd be foolish to believe he knows ever part of the castle, then Lizl's mind couldn't possibly fathom the things she could discover if she had some play time around the enormous school.

Her thoughts, however, were soon cut short when she reached the entrance to the school. A woman — who Lizl assumed was Professor McGonagall — was waiting for her in the entryway, clad in emerald and black robes, a regales surrounding her imposing presence.

"Good morning Elizabeth." greeting the woman curtly. "I'm professor McGonagall."

"Good morning, professor." Lizl nodded, shacking the woman's hand in greeting. "I prefer to be called Lizl, actually."

"Of course, Lizl. The headmaster is waiting for you in his office. Follow me please."

Lizl followed the professor closely, her footsteps almost in sync with hers as they walked through the corridors of the castle.

Once again, she found herself getting lost in the castle surrounding her. She took notice of the moving portraits — that seemed to be following her around and whispering about the sudden appearance of a girl in the middle of summer — and the staircases that redirected themselves ever couple of minutes, and even the armoured soldiers "guarding" the halls with their swords of steel.

Sensing her curiousness taking the better of her, Lizl shook her head slightly and decided to take the chance and talk to the professor walking beside her.

"Professor, you teach Transfiguration, right?"

"Yes." was the woman's simple answer — though a small glint of surprise took over her eyes when Lizl initiated conversation.

"What do you think about Shirley's theory on the old animal fusion technique?" inquired the girl, and McGonagall's eyes lit up in interest, the corners of her lips turning upwards — though very slightly.

"Well, Shirley's ideas are very ambitious, though I do not think his way of approaching the subject is very practical."

"Well, not that I'd ever be looking forward to share part of my mind or body with an animal, but, is there another reason for your disapproval of the approach?" continued Lizl, eager to learn from someone with McGonagall's experience on the subject.

"Animal fusion is an age old practice that failed to replace the process of becoming an animagus. Wizards that simply lacked the focus and dedication to become animagi, decided to attempt to share their minds with an existing animal. Some succeeded by using cursed objects passed down from generations to control the animals, and while some turned out to be very successful — even using their newfound abilities to serve as high level spies — it is still a rather dangerous and unreliable practice. Shirley's theory somehow managed to condone all the previous approaches while offering a new — even more unreliable and dangerous approach."

McGonagall watched as Lizl's brows furrowed in thought.

"You don't think the mind linking potion wouldn't work?"

"Oh, hardly. You can't link two entities who don't even share the same way of processing information. But something tells me you already know that." she added, and noticed the small smirk forming on the younger girl's lips.

"While the approach itself is a rather daft one, I have to admit, I don't find Shirley's fascination with the subject a waste of time. It could be rather useful, if executed successfully."

McGonagall sighed softly, as the two women reached a long corridor, and chose her words carefully.

"Well, in an attempt to offer some advice, as someone that has worked on the subject for her entire life, I believe the best way to execute the idea correctly, would be to abandon all previous approaches and look for another way to complete the fusion. Even if the new approach includesabandoning the idea of the fusion all together." she suggested pointedly, looking over at the girl beside her. "Are you interested in the subject?"

Lizl chuckled slightly, nodding in response. "To be honest, I'm interested in most subjects. It's what happens when you're raised by a Ravenclaw."

The older woman offered a kind smile as she looked over the raven-haired girl one more time. Ceasing her movements, she motioned towards a large Griffin statue, and Lizl quickly followed her silent instructions, stepping closer to the bird.

"The headmaster is waiting for you. I'll fetch you once the meeting is over." she smiled softly before uttering the password. "Chocolate frogs."

●♛●

Seeing as the infamous Albus Dumbledore wasn't sitting by his desk — or anywhere else for that matter — Lizl took her time in taking in the grand office.

Amongst the books in his shelves, the small potion vials that glistened in the dark corner, and various magical objects scattered around the place, Lizl was rather intrigued by one object that was rather unique… the sorting hat.

She approached the old hat slowly, careful not to startle it.

"Who are you?" coughed the hat, dust shooting out of his mouth as lizl took a step back to avoid dirtying her clothes. "Since when do we accept visitors during the summer?"

The girl only smirked and shrugged indifferently. "Hello. You must be the infamous sorting hat. Pleasure to meet you."

The hat grinned — as much as its stitches would allow at least, and looked over the girl. "Oh, aren't you a polite one. Most students just try and dust me off at best." he grumbled.

"Well, I don't particularly enjoy people blowing on my face, so I'm not really going to do that." quipped the girl, her eyes following the stitching on the hats edges, the stray pieces of cloth hanging from the self.

"I don't remember you though. Did I never sort you?"

"No. Not really." the girl shook her head.

"Well, that's a pity. I am never wrong, you know." the hat boasted and Lizl thought it was high time their little conservation ended.

"It was nice to meet you." she stated politely, straightening her spine and separating herself from the hat.

"Yes, yes. Now please leave me. I need to prepare this year's song."

The girl chuckled softly at the hats antics, but her attention was soon focused on the tall figure that had just emerged from the adjoining room.

"He's quite an eccentric personality, really." came Dumbledore's calm voice from the other side of the room.

He was pretty much exactly how little eleven-year-old Lizzie remembered him. The same pastel coloured robes with silver details that seemed to glow, the same long beard and tiny glasses on his face… maybe he needed a wardrobe change…

"I like the confidence." argued Lizl, glancing over at the hat one last time. "He's truly one of a kind."

"Hello, Elizabeth. It's wonderful to see you again." greeted Dumbledore warmly, stepping behind his desk.

"Hello. And I prefer Lizl."

"Of course, of course. Please, sit." he offered, and Lizl quickly followed suit, sitting on one of the chairs on the other side of the large desk.

"Thank you."

"Would you like something to drink? Some tea perhaps?"

Lizl only shook her head, her stomach nowhere near comfortable with any form of drink at that point. "No, thank you. I'm quite alright."

"So, how have you been since the last time I saw you?"

"You mean since I was eleven and Maggie kicked you out of 'The Lair'?" offered Lizl, chuckling softly under her breath. "I've been good. Wouldn't trade it for anything."

"I'm glad. Margaret was always very protective of you. I remember her saying that adopting you was the easiest decision she'd ever made. She's very proud of you, you know."

"I'm very proud of her as well." added Lizl, anxious for him to reveal the real reason behind the invitation.

"Well, I hear you're not one to waste previous time, much like your mother, so I'd like to get right to the point if you'd like."

"I'd prefer that, actually." nodded the girl eagerly.

"I requested this appointment so I can make an offer that I think is long overdue."

Lizl's eyes snapped to the headmaster, his words echoing in her ears. "What do you have to offer me?"

"Well, nothing actually. I will merely remind you of one of your rights. A place in this school."

"You're asking me to come to Hogwarts?" asked a dumbfounded Lizl.

"Well, yes. I am offering you a chance to finish your schooling here for your last year and sit for the NEWT exams along with the rest of the seventh years."

Stunned, was the closest word that could described the girl at that point. She had always wondered — obviously — what it would've been like if she had gone to Hogwarts. But given that Maggie offered her a great education and the freedom to run around London as she pleased, the feeling of missing something important was never something she had experienced. 

"But why now? And why on my last year? Weren't Maggie's threats enough?" she chuckled lightly as she weighed her options. "I can assure you I've received the best education. I was raised by Margaret Thibault for Merlin's sake."

Dumbledore chose to remain silent, giving the girl time to process the offer.

Lizl's face hardened as she straightened her spine and leaned forward. "The real question is, why are you offering me the position now?"

Dumbledore didn't even skip a single beat.

"Because I think that you're brilliant. I might not be welcome at 'The Lair', and I respected Margaret enough to keep my distance, but I've always kept tabs on you. I owed it to your parents."

"My parents have nothing to do with this." Lizl dismissed quickly.

"Of course." nodded the older wizard. "It has come to my attention that you have excelled in most of your subjects. You got an Outstanding in all your OWLs and have inherited your uncle Augustus' creativeness. I believe that a mind as brilliant as yours would exploit every single thing this school has to offer."

Lizl leaned back on the chair, her long beak-coated fingernails clicking against the wooden armrest. "How exactly would it work?"

"Well, since you're already seventeen and a legal adult you'd only need to sign a form informing the ministry that you will conclude your schooling at Hogwarts. The rest of the paperwork will be taken care of by professor McGonagall who is the head of admissions. After that, you could get sorted here in my office, if you wanted to be more discreet, and you'd start your lessons with the rest of the students."

Lizl took in his words, and nodded before standing up, Dumbledore mimicking her shortly after.

"Thank you for your offer. Unfortunately, I cannot make a decision right now."

"You don't have to." smiled the old wizard. "Anytime you want, Hogwarts will always be here to welcome you."

"Goodbye, headmaster."

"Goodbye, Lizl."

●♛●

Lizl barely said a word to both McGonagall and Madam Rosmerta as she made the journey back to the small room above "The Three Broomsticks". Upon exiting the castle, she strutted quickly back to the pub, her heeled boots clicking against the cobblestone path. As soon as she entered, the wave at the barmaid, grabbing her room keys in one hand and a bottle of firewhiskey on the other — making sure to leave some coins on the bar.

The door to her room shut loudly with a bang, the clicking of the lock following suit. Lizl felt like she couldn't breathe. Her clothes felt tight, her shoes hurt her feet, and the air was suffocating to her.

Taking her clothes off, Lizl found herself in only her dark underwear and jewellery, sitting on her bedroom floor, with only half a firewhiskey bottle remaining in her hand.

"You're a peculiar little thing, aren't you?" she wandered as she looked over at the Black family ring, twisting between her fingers as she tried to memorise the feeling of the foreign jewel.

This was supposed to be a symbol of her family, her blood, her birthright. And yet all it felt like was a cold black stone with silver embellishments.

As she gulped down more of the firewhiskey, Lizl's mind started feeling numb. In the midst of her haze, she found herself getting dressed in a shirt and jeans, and climbing down the stairs to the — now nearly full, since it was 9pm — pub.

The locals looked over at her with a bizarre look on their faces as the scary looking girl made her way across the pub, swiftly avoiding bumping into the customers — even in her drunken state. Madam Rosmerta attempted to stop her, but found herself frozen as soon as Lizl reached her destination.

Lizl placed the now empty bottle of firewhiskey on the ground, and sat on the small ottoman by the old piano in the back of the pub. With her eyelids half-way closed, her thin fingers glided swiftly on the keys, creating a mind-numbing melody as her feet pressed on the petals.

The entire pub was left frozen as the girl expertly moved her fingers on the keys, humming softly to the rhythm she had created. Everyone's conversation dies down quickly, all eyes focusing on the young girl that was taking them on a journey through music and song.

She was a girl filled with contradictions, desperately trying to find a balance.

●♛●


	8. Purebloods Always Pay Their Debts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When He Finds Out One Of Her Secrets

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Lizl grunted as her sleep was abruptly interrupted by her alarm clock. With her head still snuggled against the pillow, she searched blindly for the small contraption. Groaning when she realised her hand couldn't reach it, Lizl finally raised her head from the pillow, her long raven locks stuck to her face as she rubbed her eyes open. She looked around — her vision still foggy — and realised the damned alarm clock was on her desk across the room. Huffing in annoyance, she willed her body to stand up, and stretched above her head. Her muscles were still stiff, as she padded across the floor and turned off the alarm.

She still hadn't made a decision.

Lizl was very smart, and she knew it. She was observant, generally suspicious of people, and she never wanted to be caught off guard. But when Dumbledore presented her with an option she had crossed off her mind a long time ago, she didn't know what to think.

At first, her immediate reaction was to say no. Maggie had given her the best education possible, and Lizl enjoyed the added bonus of her freedom. As long as she clocked in her mandatory hours of schooling and she handed in her assignments, Maggie rarely gave a crap about where she went or what she did in her free time. But the longer Lizl thought of 'Hogwarts', the more the castle's allure got to her. She imagined all the secrets the hallways could hide, the magic infused in those very walls. And perhaps a small part of her longed for some normality.

But then again, normal was never Lizl's strong suit.

Rubbing her tired eyes once more, Lizl headed to the small bathroom and hopped in the shower. The cold water trailed down her body, waking up her limbs and mind. She had to go through patrol, check with Liam, Caitlin and Jonathan, and after that, she'd finally tell Maggie what happened in Hogwarts.

Willing her wand to fly to her hand, Lizl used a simple spell to dry her hair, the thick wavy locks forming around her face in a mere second. Smirking to her reflection in the mirror, Lizl wrapped a large fluffy towel around her body and returned to her room to get dressed.

As she put on her boots, Lizl looked around for her favourite sweater. It was way too sunny outside for her leather jacket this early in the morning, so she had opted for her favourite knitted sweater to keep her warm.

Her boots clicked against the floors of the apartment, the stairs softly cracking under the pressure. That was probably how Maggie would always find out she had snuck out. The building was so old, she couldn't even tiptoe and not get caught.

"Maggie! Have you seen my green sweater?" Lizl asked, already smelling the scent of her mother's favourite tea in the air, indicating she was already up and running the small store. "I swear I left it down here yest—"

Lizl almost slipped on the last step when seeing the scene in front of her. There, beside the very same table Harry Potter sat when he came to 'The Lair' was not just her mother, but Fred bloody Weasley, with _the_ Margaret Thibault serving him tea.

"Bonjour ma cherie. Somebody slept in." her mother commented pointedly. "Thankfully, the young Weasley boy here kept me company during breakfast." smiled the old woman, but Lizl remained frozen in her spot.

"What. The actual. Fuck.?" were the only words that seemed to come out of her mouth.

Fred snicker softly, his eyes lighting up when looking straight in hers. "Hello, love."

"Watch your language darling, you could argue for a living, foul words are cheap." chastised the older witch, and Lizl just gulped uncomfortably.

_What was she planning on doing to him? Probably needs a redhead for a potion…_

"Personally, I find foul words quite fitting at the moment." argued Lizl. "What on earth is _he_ doing here?"

"Oh, he's been around the neighbourhood for months now. If I'm not mistaken, he's been hanging around "The Wench" with his brother most nights. Isn't that right, Freddie dear?" replied Maggie, and that was Fred's turn to gulp, clearly feeling uneasy with the amount of information the old witch held.

"Uhm, yes. It's quite lovely there." he stuttered sheepishly, looking over at Lizl.

The girl bit her lip in nervousness and nodded at the boy softly, before turning to face her mother. "We should leave. Let you, finish your tea, and tend to the… customers…?" she offered, looking around the ridiculously dusty, and empty as a bloody cemetery, shop. "I'm sure they'll appear. At some point. Bye."

Lizl didn't let her mother speak another word, as she marched on to the small table and grabbed Fred's arm and her leather jacket from the hanger, leading them towards the exit of the small shop.

"Goodbye Ms Thibault. It was a pleasure talking to you." waved the red-headed boy.

"Pleasure to talk to you as well Mr Weasley. Please give your father my congratulations on his promotion."

Sensing his uneasiness, Lizl dragged him quicker and led him outside, shutting the large engraved wooden door behind them. "Okay, that was enough for today, don't you think?"

"How the hell did she know that?" uttered Fred, a bewildered look on his eyes as they both leaned against a stone wall not far from Lizl's house.

"Maggie knows everything." chuckled Lizl, finding Fred's reaction to her mother quite amusing. He wasn't running for the hills, like most people, but his expression still made her grin.

"She knew I had entered the store before the bell rang! Her back was turned to me and she still knew my name. And I'll be forever scarred by the questions she threw at me like bludgers. Did you hear what she said about my dad? How did she know about the promotion of a low-level Ministry employee?" ranted Fred, and Lizl snickered under her breath.

"I told you Weasley, Maggie knows everything. To this day, I don't know how she does it. And I bloody live with her." she answered honestly, a small giggle escaping her lips.

"Oh, don't you laugh." smirked the red-head. "It was traumatising. It felt like I was meeting the in-laws. It was worth it, though. That look of shock on your pretty face was the highlight of my day." Fred offered, his finger pointing at Lizl's wide smile.

"Oh, shut up, Weasley." scoffed the girl as she swatted his arm away. "Why on earth were you in my house, anyways?"

"Our bet."

"What bet?"

Fred smirked as he stood up straight and detached himself from the stone wall. "The pool game, remember?"

The wheels clicked in Lizl's mind as her smile faded. " _That_ game was never finished." she countered.

"No. Technically, you _cheated_ with your — totally awesome by the way — telekinetic magic trick. So therefore, I win."

"You didn't win! This is none-sense!" she protested.

"No, it's not. Admit it, love. You cheated, I won. Now it's time for your punishment." smirked Fred, his eyebrow raising in suggestion.

Lizl fought all the dirty comments that swirled through her head and simply decided to let the boy finish. "Punishment?"

"You owe me a date, remember?"

"Oh, hell no." she stated, her playful demeanour disappearing. She didn't have time for dates, she didn't have time for love. Sure, a little bit of flirting was nice, but she was way to busy building a bloody empire in her head, she had no room left for dates.

"Oh, come on darling. You know you want to. Especially after we bonded under the stars."

"We… _bonded_?"

Fred smirked as he stepped closer to the girl. "Of course we did. And now you're madly in love with me."

Lizl let out a throaty laugh. "You're a fool, Fred Weasley." she commented, detaching herself from the wall and walking down the small cobblestone paths of 'The Lair'.

But the red-headed boy wasn't a quitter. His footsteps immediately followed hers, his longer legs allowing him to catch up and cut her off, her eyes locking with his.

"Maybe I am. But I'm a fool fascinated with a girl that owes him a date. So, I consider myself pretty lucky — even with all my foolishness."

Lizl reverted her eyes from his, his gaze becoming uncomfortable. "I don't have time for a date. I need to patrol the grounds. There's a dark wizard at large, if you haven't noticed."

A wide smile spread though the boy's face. "It's okay. I'll join you."

"What?!"

Fred snickered softly as he looked at Lizl's bewildered expression. "You can't get rid of me that easily Lizzie. I'm not scared of all that leather."

"You're impossible." huffed the girl, but the Weasley boy had only just begun.

"Like I told you: Anything's possible, love."

"Fine. But keep up. I'm not going to slow down so that you won't tumble over your feet."

●♛●

"The unbreakable vow? Are you joking?"

Fred's heart filled with pride and satisfaction as Lizl's laugh echoed through the streets of "The Lair". He had followed her around as she patrolled — which ended up being much simpler than he had thought — and was surprised to see just how loving people were. Sure, some of them had changed paths in order to avoid her, but most of the regulars and families went out of their way to greet her, even offering food or drinks. And while Lizl liked to pretend that she was cold and tough, Fred saw the small blush on her cheeks whenever someone greeted her with a warm smile.

After convincing her to take the ice-cream the vendor was offering, Fred went ahead to recount his favourite pranks for one very selfish reason; he wanted to make her laugh.

"I swear to your lovely grey eyes, I'm totally serious." he continued his story. "Dad caught us before we could actually cast the spell, however. It was the first time I saw him get as mad as mum. My right but cheek has never felt the same after that day. That man packs a nasty kick."

Lizl took another bite off her ice cream and giggled. "You totally deserved it! I have no idea how your mum manages to keep her sanity with all of you — especially you and George — running around and causing chaos."

"Oh, please, we're not that crazy. We know were to stop." Fred argued.

"Like when you left Hogwarts in a pile of firework smoke?"

"So, you're a fan of our work." smirked the boy, and Lizl rolled her eyes at his cockiness.

"Don't flatter yourself Weasley. That stunt you pulled was rather hard to miss, _and_ I have friends here who go to Hogwarts."

"Whatever you say." shrugged the boy, more than content that he had spent the last hour making her laugh. "Besides, now we have the shop. We've managed to turn mischief into a legitimate business. I call that brilliant."

"Your ego is getting dangerously big Weasley." tutted Lizl. "But I'll give it to you; that shop of yours is quite the success, from what I hear."

"You should visit then. I'd be happy to give you a tour. I'm pretty sure we've got something you're really going to like."

Lizl scrunched her nose and shook her head softly. "I don't need puking pastilles, thank you very much."

"I wasn't talking about the pastilles — which you'd love, by the way. I was actually talking about a couple of other gadgets, of the "Defence Against the Dark Arts" variety. I've got a special batch of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder waiting for you… Along with a couple of other objects that I'm not allowed to sell to the public." he offered, and was more than pleased to see a grin forming on the girl's lips.

"Look at you, trying to get on my good side by offering me weapons."

"Supply and demand. It's as simple as that." winked Fred.

Lizl chuckled, returning to her ice-cream. "Well, in that case, I might just drop by for a little visit—"

But Fred would never hear the rest of her sentence. In a flash, her eyes clouded — just like they had had the previous Sunday — and every inch of Lizl's eyes turned that haunting grey that had Fred shaking in nervousness.

"Liz?" he asked, dropping his ice-cream and grabbing her arms, balancing her figure. "Lizl, what's wrong?"

Lizl chocked on air as the clouds parted, the dark of her pupils finally revealed as she took in a breath of air.

"Something's wrong." her hands feeling cold as Fred clutched on them tightly.

Lizl calmed her breathing, and detached herself from Fred, her demeanour changing from nervous to what Fred would come to describe as Lizl's momma bear face — which she'd of course claim to hate.

"Something's going on in the south square. Keep up, or be left behind." she stated, and without another word, she sped through the streets of "The Lair".

Fred didn't even think before darting behind her. His feet easily keeping up with her — thanks to years of Quidditch practice, mostly — he followed her around the cobblestone paths, turning left and right. She made it look so effortless, Fred was sure that she had the entire "Lair" mapped in her head.

They continued south until a large building blocked their way. It was a dead end. There was no short way to get to their destination. But Lizl had other plans.

She led Fred inside the large building, speeding through the hallways of apartments until she reached a dark engraved wooden wall and used her wand to unlock it. Tearing it open, the door revealed a large industrial elevator. Lizl was quick to get inside, motioning for Fred to follow swiftly — he had found himself stuck wandering how many secrets the small neighbourhood really held. She pressed the top floor button quickly, and the elevator started moving, guiding them to the top.

Fred couldn't find the right words to describe what was going on around him. "The Lair" had always been a mystery to anyone not living in it, and he was learning much more than he ever hoped to.

"Why don't we just apparate to the south square?" he turned to ask Lizl, but he was shocked to see her eyes had once more turned grey, her pupils gone — though she seemed much more collected than before.

When her eyes returned to normal, she finally turned to him as the elevator reached the top floor. "Can't focus. I need all eyes on the intruder."

When the elevator stopped, Lizl tore the metal door open, and led him up one more flight of stairs that led to what Fred assumed was the rooftop.

As Lizl opened the hatch and climbed on the roof, Fred's eyes were blinded by the sunlight. When his vision cleared though, he realised why Lizl claimed to love sitting on her roof; the view was amazing. Fred always thought the tall building of "The Lair" were made that way to look intimidating, but a brand new option was staring right at him. He was standing on top of an eight floor building, overlooking the muggle neighbourhood around him. He could see everything. From the people walking on the streets, to the cars and busses speeding down the roads, to kids playing in parks. It was trully… brilliant.

"What the hell happened?!" growled Lizl, interrupting Fred's thoughts and pulling him straight back to reality.

At first, Fred thought she was talking to him, but after further inspection, he realised she was talking to Caitlin Rosier.

"Greyback happened." the blonde explained, seemingly unaffected by Lizl's outburst. "I think he was looking for—"

"—Yeah, I got it. Where is the furry bastard?" demanded Lizl, and Caitlin motioned for them to follow her, barely paying the red-head any attention as the group of three headed south by walking on the rooftops, jumping from building to building.

"Cassie saw him by the south entrance, near the abandoned apartments. He was ransacking the place."

"Where's Liam?" asked Lizl.

"He took Rufus with him to scope the place out. I haven't heard from them since they disappeared in the old Tower." explained the blonde, as Fred followed suit, taking into notice that there were in fact, at least a dozen other people standing on rooftops, scattered all across "The Lair" as if it was the most casual thing they could do.

"How did he get there so quick?" asked Lizl, still immersed in her conversation with the smaller girl.

"Jonathan called."

"Jonathan _what_?!" demanded Lizl, her "momma bear" face reappearing as Fred snickered under his breath.

"He was visiting Bloody Mary."

And that was finally Fred's cue to freak out.

" _Bloody Mary_?" he wandered out loud, a dumbfounded look on his face.

"Nickname, Weasley." dismissed Lizl quickly, returning to her previous conversation. "What happened? Is anyone hurt?"

"Not from what I can see." replied Caitlin as the group of three reached to a halt. "Liam's on the ground floor. Enjoy the dirt." waved the blonde.

"Enjoy the sky. Come on, Weasley." Lizl ordered quickly, opening a hatch on the roof and leading a still dumbfounded Fred down to another industrial elevator.

Fred bounced on the soles of his feet, questions probing his impatient brain.

"Was Greyback really in here? Who was he looking for?" he finally asked, his wand itching for him to grab it and help Lizl.

"None of your business." answered Lizl nervously, indicating the reason was perhaps more personal that just Death Eaters wanted to cause trouble.

"What happens if you catch him?" wandered Fred.

Lizl sucked in a deep breath, reaching for her boot and grabbing her wand as the elevator approached the ground. "I don't know. Maggie only let me takeover about a year ago."

"Have you ever dealt with an intruder like that on your own before?"

"No." she shook her head. "Maggie always took care of everything on her own. I, however, choose to delegate." she explained as they reached the ground.

Before she opened the door of the elevator, Lizl turned towards him, gripping her wand tightly in her right hand. "If you want to leave, you can leave." she said honestly, her eyes softening across from his.

"Not going to happen." smirked the red-headed boy. "I told you, it's not going to be easy to get rid of me."

Lizl almost smirked, but her mouth quickly turned into one thin line as she opened the door and led Fred outside.

"Liam. Rufus! Is everyone okay?" she exclaimed the minute they stepped outside, reaching the sunny streets of "The Lair".

Fred spotted Liam Rosier and Rufus Gould — a soon-to-be seventh year Ravenclaw. Liam seemed pissed, especially when he spotted him, and Rufus was clutched his head, a small bump forming on the top of his forehead.

Liam stopped staring at Fred pointedly and turned to Lizl, his posture changing slightly.

"We're all fine. Just a small bump. Greyback apparated in — the bloody idiot — and stormed over to the old tower. We chased him out the south entrance soon after that." he explained as Lizl's brows crunched up in thought.

"What was he looking for? The place has been empty for years." wandered Lizl, looking over

"What's in there?" Fred asked.

Liam turned towards him, an angry look in his eyes — like he had interrupted a personal moment.

"Mostly storage, and empty apartments." explained Lizl, never noticing the look her best friend was giving Fred. "We were going to expand, but these days, people don't really feel like moving into the outlaw center."

Liam huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What's _he_ doing here?" he demanded as he motioned towards Fred.

"None of your business." hissed Lizl, her piercing light eyes shutting Liam up with just a look. "What happened with Greyback?" 

Liam huffed but chose to not continue with further questions. "We found him on the fifth floor. Chased him around for a while but he just apparated out. Nothing was missing. The fifth floor is just old furniture from homes all around "The Lair". That stuff's so old nobody wanted to even touch them."

Lizl nodded softly as she gave Rufus a once over to make sure he was alright. "Okay. I'll have Jonathan help me go through the fifth floor tomorrow, just in case. In the mean time, lock the entire floor up with spells. I don't want anyone or anything going in or out. You did good. You too, Rufus."

"Thanks boss." grinned the Ravenclaw as Lizl motioned for Fred to follow her back home.

"Let's go, Weasley."

●♛●

Neither of them knew what to say. The walk home was weirdly silent.

Lizl was freaking out. She thought that perhaps she had said too much. That maybe Fred would return home and talk about the insane Elizabeth Black running "The Lair" — London's greatest magical disgrace — with the same madness that Margaret Thibault had.

Fred was worried about her. He of course had joined the Order of the Phoenix — along with George — as soon as they graduated, so he knew what it felt like to have to defend your family in the midst of all this chaos. But Fred could see the bags under her eyes, he could hear the sadness in her voice whenever he'd have the privilege of hearing her sing at "The Wench". She was carrying so much weight under her shoulders, and he admired her for that.

"So, is it like an alarm?" he wandered out loud, snickering at Lizl's dumbfounded look.

"What?" she asked, clearly surprised. She mostly had expected him to run for the hills.

"When your pretty eyes turn grey. I mean, they're already a bit grey, but it takes over when there's trouble. Is it an alarm?"

A smirk formed on her lips as she pondered on Fred's words. He was way more observant than he thought. And he was about half right.

"Since Maggie doesn't seem willing to share her secret to knowing everything going on around her, I was forced to get creative." she explained. "So, yes. It's like an alarm. But no more questions on our security. If you find out anything else, I'd be forced to kill you.

Fred chuckled as the walked around the cobblestone paths once more. "Nah, you wouldn't. You find me amusing."

"Oh, really? Is that why I keep putting up with you?" 

"Yep. That and my dashing looks." Fred grinned as he saw her chuckle. "So what happens now? With Greyback?"

Lizl sucked in a deep breath, and kicked a small pebble with the toe of her boot. "The Lair has been a home for anyone that ever sought refuge. As long as you don't cause any trouble and are not a psycho, you can pretty much build a home here. Usually, the people that move in are seeking refuge for a variety of reasons. Sometimes, these reasons have to do with the full moon."

"Werewolves." realised Fred.

"Some live here. It's no secret. Maggie provides them with the wolfsbane potion every month — for a certain price — and they live their lives as normal as anyone else. But Greyback doesn't exactly see things the way we do. He's more animal than man at this point."

But something with the theory never stuck well with the young Weasley.

"That doesn't make any sense." he mumbled, and Lizl's questioning eyes turned towards his.

"What do you mean?"

"If he was looking for werewolves, why would he ransack an empty apartment building? It doesn't make any sense. And why in the middle of the day?"

"I… I don't know." huffed the girl in frustration. "What else could he be looking for? An old armchair?"

Fred turned his gaze to the sky, recalling memories of the previous summer.

"You said there's old furniture there, right?"

"Yes. We mostly sell everything from clothes to furniture — money isn't exactly flowing over here — but the oldest pieces that nobody ends up buying we stock over there. We just rent the apartments as storage for a small fee." explained Lizl.

"How old is the furniture in there?"

"Pretty old." she shrugged. "I have some of my mum's old dining room chairs — now that I think about it, I should probably throw them away."

Fred halted his walking, turning to face her. "Listen. This is only a theory, but last summer, my family and I stayed at a… friend's house, for the summer." he tried explaining — effectively avoiding to mention with whom his family was actually staying. "It was a really old, wizarding house, and mum made us clean the entire thing."

"What kind of a summer holiday is that?" asked Lizl, her nose scrunched up in disgust.

"A fairly odd one to be honest." chuckled the boy. "The point is, we found all kinds of memorabilia in that place. Every piece of furniture hid at least three magic items. What if it's the same with the fifth floor? What if Greyback was sent here to get something from storage?"

"What on earth would be so important for Greyback to be sent here?" wandered Lizl, her mind going through all the possible scenarios.

"I don't know. Depends on who owns the stuff on the fifth floor." offered Fred.

"I'm not sure, Fred. It sounds too weird to be true."

"Why else would he bother with the abandoned apartments?" argued the boy. "I don't really think stealing is his thing. I'm pretty sure his Death Eater salary covers most of his needs; like good dog-food and a collar."

"Okay. I'll keep that in mind." she chuckled softly at the dog reference as they finally reached her home once more. "Thank you, for today. I actually had a good time."

A huge grin formed on Fred's lips at the sound of her words. "Anytime love. Let me know if my theory was correct."

"I'll be sure to owl you." she promised.

"Oh, no. That can't happen. See, we get a lot of work mail, and it'd be impossible for me to get to your letter. It'd be much more convenient if you dropped by the shop, perhaps?" he smirked suggestively.

Lizl pondered on her options, looking over at the red-headed boy in front of her and thinking of the way he helped her forget her worries that morning. Perhaps in the midst of chaos, Lizl could be selfish. Maybe in between fights, she could do this one small selfish thing and visit the boy that made her laugh.

"Fine." she huffed teasingly. "But you better have my instant darkness powder ready. The one we get here is uncut and it costs a hefty amount to purchase. Yours better be worth it."

"Only the best for Ms Black." smirked Fred, bowing down dramatically, curtsying in front of her.

The girl chucked at his foolishness.

"Bye, Fred."

"Bye, Lizl."

And in the blink of an eye, he was gone, and she had returned home.

Now the only thing she had to do was face Maggie and tell her all about Dumbledore. That should be fun. Right?

●♛●


End file.
